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^'Di,,  VI. 


FUBJLISHrEB  BYTJEE 


A 


TO 


THB  vra'conrvE^.TE!), 


BY  REV.  RICHARD  BAXTER. 


WITH 

AN  INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY, 

BY  REV.  THOMAS  CHALMERS,  D.  D. 


PUBLISHED  BY    THE 

AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY, 

150  NASSAU-STREET,   NEW-YORK. 


D.  Fanshaw,  Printer* 


'^    DR*   CHALMERS' 


INTRX)PUCT0RY    ESgAY, 


(JL 


The  "Call  to  thrCfflS^7ted"  by  Richard  Bax- 
ter, is  characterized  by  all  that  solemn  earnestness, 
and  urgency  of  appeal,  for  which  the  writings  of  this 
much-admired  author  are  so  pecuharly  distinguished. 
He  seems  to  look  upon  mankind  solely  with  the  eyes 
of  the  Spirit,  and  exclusively  to  recognize  them  in 
their  spiritual  relations,  and  in  tli^  great  and  essential 
elements  of  their  immortal  being.  Their  future  des- 
tiny is  the  all-important  concern  which  fills  and  en- 
grosses his  mind,  and  he  regards  nothing  of  any  mag- 
nitude but  what  has  a  distinct  bearing  on  their  spiri- 
tual and  eternal  condition.  His  business,  therefore,  is 
always  Avith  the  conscience,  to  which  he  makes  the 
most  forcible  appeals,  and  which  he  plies  with  all 
those  arguments  which  are  fitted  to  awaken  tlie  sinner 
to  a  deep  sense  of  the  necessity  and  importance  of  im- 
mediate repentance.  He  endeavors  to  move  him  by 
the  most  touching  of  all  representations,  the  tender- 
ness of  a  be-seeching  God  vvaiung  to  be  gracious,  and 
not  Avilling  that  any  should  perish ;  and  wliile  he  em- 
ploys every  form  of  entreaty,  which  tenderness  and 
compassion  can  suggest,  to  allure  the  sinner  to  "turn 
and  live,"  he  does  not  shrink  from  forcing  on  his  con 
victions  those  considerations  which  are  fitted  to  alarm 
liis  fears,  the  terrors  of  the  Lord,  and  the  wrath,  not 
merely  of  an  oflended  Lawgiver,  but  of  a  God  of  love, 
whose  threatening^  lie  disregards,  whose  grace  he  dcs- 


4  INTRODUCTION. 

pises,  and  whose  mercy  he  rejects.  And  aware  of  tho 
deceitfulncss  of  sin  in  hardeninor  the  heart,  and  in  be- 
traying the  sinner  into  a  neglect  of  his  spiritual  inte- 
rests, he  divests  him  of  every  refuge,  and  strips  liim  of 
every  plea  for  postponing  liis  preparation  for  eternity. 
He  forcibly  exposes  the  delusion  of  convenient  seasons, 
and  the  awful  infatuation  and  hazard  of  delay ,  and 
knowing  the  magnitude  of  the  stake  at  issue,  he  urges 
the  sinner  to  immediate  repentance,  as  if  the  fearful 
and  almost  absolute  alternative  were  "  Now  or  Never." 
And  to  secure  the  commencement  of  such  an  important 
work  against  all  the  dangers  to  which  procrastination 
might  expose  it,  he  endeavors  to  arrest  the  sinner  in 
liis  career  of  guilt  and  unconcern,  and  resolutely  to  fix 
his  determination  on  "  turning  to  Grod  this  day  with- 
out delay." 

There  are  two  very  prevalent  delusions  on  this  sub- 
ject, which  we  should  like  to  expose;  the  one  regards 
the  nature,  and  the  other  the  season  of  repentance ; 
both  of  which  are  ])regnant  with  mischief  to  the  mmds 
of  men.  With  regard  to  the  first,  much  mischief  has 
arisen  from  mistakes  respecting  the  meaning  of  the 
term  i^epentance.  The  word  repentance  occurs  with 
two  different  meanings  in  the  New  Testament ;  and 
it  is  to  be  regretted,  that  two  different  w^ords  could  not 
liave  been  devised  to  express  these.  This  is  charge- 
able upon  the  poverty  of  our  language ;  for  it  is  to  be 
observed,  that  in  the  original  Greek  the  distinction  in 
the  meanings  is  pointed  out  by  a  distinction  in  the 
words.  The  employment  of  one  term  to  denote  two 
different  things  has  the  effect  of  confounding  and  mis- 
leading the  understanding;  and  it  is  much  to  bo 
wished,  that  every  ambiguity  of  this  kind  were  clear- 
ed aAvay  from  that  most  interesting  point  in  the  pro 


INTRODUCTION.  5 

cess  of  a  human  soul,  at  which  it  turns  from  sin  imto 
righteousness,  and  from  tlie  power  of  Satan  unto  God 

When  in  common  language,  a  man  says,  "  I  repent 
of  such  an  action,"  he  is  understood  to  say,  "  I  am  sorry 
for  having  done  it."  The  feeling  is  familiar  to  all  of 
us.  How  often  does  the  man  of  dissipation  prove  this 
sense  of  the  word  repentance,  when  he  awakes  in  the 
morning,  and,  oppressed  by  the  languor  of  his  ex- 
hausted faculties,  looks  back  with  remorse  on  the  fol- 
lies and  profligacies  of  the  night  that  is  past?  How 
often  does  the  man  ol'  unguarded  conversation  prove  it. 
when  he  thinks  of  the  friends  whose  feelings  he  has 
wounded  by  some  hasty  utterance  which  he  cannot 
recall?  How  often  is  it  proved  by  the  man  of  business, 
when  lie  reflects  on  the  rash  engagement  which  ties 
him  down  to  a  losing  speculation?  All  these  people 
would  be  perfectly  imderstood  when  they  say,  "  We 
repent  of  these  domgs."  The  word  repentance  so 
applied  is  about  equivalent  to  the  word  regret.  There 
are  several  passages  in  ttie  NeAV  Testament  where 
this  is  the  undoubted  sense  of  the  word  repentance. 
In  Matt.  27:  3.  the  wretched  Judas  repented  himself 
of  his  treachery ;  and  surely,  wlien  we  think  of  the 
awful  denunciation  uttered  by  our  Savior  against  the 
man  who  should  betray  him,  that  it  were  better  foi- 
him  if  he  had  not  been  born,  we  shall  never  confound 
the  repentance  which  Judas  experienced  with  that 
repentance  which  is  unto  salvation. 

Now  here  lies  the  danger  to  practical  Christianity. 
In  the  above-cited  passage,  to  repent  is  just  to  regret, 
or  to  be  sorry  for ;  and  this  we  conceive  to  be  by  fax 
the  most  prevailing  sense  of  the  term  in  the  English 
language.  But  there  are  other  places  where  the  same 
term  is  employed  to  denote  that  which  is  urged  upon 
]* 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

lis  as  a  duly — that  which  is  preached  for  tlie  remis- 
sion of  sins — that  which  is  so  indispensable  to  sinners, 
as  to  call  forth  the  declaration  from  our  Savior,  that 
iinle^  we  have  it,  we  shall  all  likewise  perish.  Now, 
though  repentance,  in  all  these  cases,  is  expressed  by 
the  same  term  in  our  translation  as  the  repentance  of 
mere  regret,  it  is  expressed  by  a  different  term  in  the 
original  record  of  our  faith.  This  surely  might  lead 
us  to  suspect  a  difierence  of  meaning,  and  should  cau- 
tion us  against  taking  up  with  that,  as  sufficient  for 
the  business  of  our  salvation,  which  is  short  of  saving' 
and  scriptural  repentance.  There  may  be  an  alterna- 
tion of  \^•ilful  sin,  and  of  deep-felt  sorrow,  up  to  the 
very  end  of  our  histor}' — there  may  be  a  presumptu- 
ous sin  committed  every  day,  and  a  sorrow  ^e;^"ula^ly 
succeeding  it.  Sorrow  may  imbitter  every  act  of  sin — 
sorrow  may  darken  every  interval  of  sinful  indul- 
gence— and  sorrow  may  give  an  unutterable  anguish 
to  the  pains  and  the  prospects  of  a  deathbed.  Couple 
all  this  %vith  the  circumstance  that  sorrow  passes,  in 
the  common  currency  of  our  language,  for  repentance , 
and  that  repentance  is  made,  by  our  Bible,  to  lie  at 
the  turning  point  from  a  state  of  condemnation  to  a 
state  of  acceptance  with  God ;  and  it  is  difficult  not  to 
conceive  that  much  danger  may  have  arisen  from  this, 
leading  to  indistinct  views  of  the  nature  of  repentance, 
and  to  slender  and  superficial  conceptions  of  the  migh- 
ty change  which  is  impUed  in  it. 

We  are  far  from  saving  that  the  eye  of  Christians 
is  not  open  to  this  danger — and  that  the  vigilant  care 
of  Cliristian  authors  has  not  been  employed  in  avert- 
ing it.  Where  will  we  get  a  better  definition  of  re- 
pentance unto  life  than  in  our  Shorter  Catechism?  by 
which  the  sinner  is  represented  not  merely  as  grieving, 


INTRODUCliON.  7 

but,  alon^  with  his  grief  and  hatred  of  sin,  as  turning 
from  it  unto  God  with  full  purpose  of,  end  endeavor 
after  new  obedience.  But  the  miscliief  is,  that  the 
word  repent  has  a  common  meaning,  different  from 
the  theological :  that  wherever  it  is  used,  this  common 
meaning  is  apt  to  intrude  itself,  and  exert  a  kind  of 
habitual  imposition  upon  the  understanding — that  the 
influence  of  the  single  word  carries  it  over  the  influ- 
ence of  the  lengthened  explanation — and  thus  it  is 
that,  for  a  steady  progress  in  the  obedience  of  the 
gospel,  many  persevere,  to  the  end  of  their  days,  in  a 
wretched  course  of  sinning  and  of  sorrowing,  without 
fruit  and  Avithout  amendment. 

To  save  the  practically  mischievous  efiect  arising 
from  the  appUcation  of  one  term  to  two  different  things, 
one  distinct  and  appropriate  tenn  has  been  suggested 
for  the  saving  repentance  of  the  New  Testament. 
The  term  repentance  itself  has  been  restricted  to  the 
repentance  of  mere  sorrow,  and  is  made  equivalent  to 
regret ;  and  for  the  other,  able  translators  have 
adopted  the  word  reformation.  The  one  is  expressive 
of  sorrow  for  our  past  conduct ;  the  other  is  expressive 
of  our  renouncing  it.  It  denotes  an  actual  turning 
from  the  habits  of  life  that  we  are  sorry  for.  Give  us, 
say  they,  a  change  from  bad  deeds  to  good  deeds, 
from  bad  habits  to  good  habits,  from  a  life  of  wicked- 
ness to  a  life  of  conformity  to  the  requirements  of 
heaven,  and  you  give  us  reformation. 

Now  there  is  oflen  nothing  more  unprofitable  than 
a  dispute  about  words ;  but  if  a  word  has  got  into  com- 
mon use,  a  common  and  generally  understood  mean- 
ing is  attached  to  it ;  and  if  this  meaning  does  not 
just  come  up  to  the  thing  which  we  want  to  express 
by  it,  the  application  of  that  word  to  that  tiling  has 


S  INTRODUCTION. 

the  same  misleading  effects  lis  in  the  case  ah-eadj' 
alluded  to.  Now,  we  have  much  the  same  kind  of 
exception  to  allege  against  the  term  reformation^  that 
we  have  alleged  against  the  term  Tepentance.  The 
term  repentance  is  inadequate — and  why?  because, 
m  the  common  use  of  it,  it  is  equivalent  to  regret,  and 
regret  is  short  of  the  saving  change  that  is  spolcen  of 
in  the  New  Testament.  On  the  very  same  principle, 
we  count  the  term  reformation  to  be  inadequate.  We 
think  that,  in  common  language,  a  man  would  receive 
the  appellation  of  a  reformed  man  upon  the  mere 
change  of  his  outward  habits,  without  any  reference 
.0  the  change  of  mind  and  of  principle  wliich  gave 
rise  to  it.  Let  the  drankard  give  up  his  excesses — 
let  the  backbiter  give  up  his  evil  speakings — let  the 
extortioner  give  up  his  unfair  charges — and  we  \vould 
apply  to  one  and  all  of  them,  upon  the  mere  change 
of  their  external  doings,  the  character  of  reformed 
men.  Now,  it  is  evident  that  the  drunkard  may  give 
up  his  drunkenness,  because  checked  by  a  serious  im- 
pression of  the  injury  he  has  been  doing  to  his  health 
and  his  circumstances.  The  backbiter  may  give  up 
his  evil  speaking,  on  being  made  to  perceive  that  tlie 
hateful  practice  has  brought  upon  him  the  contempt 
and  alienation  of  his  neighbors.  The  extortioner  may 
give  up  his  unfair  charges,  upon  taking  it  into  calcu- 
lation that  his  business  is  likely  to  suffer  by  the  deser- 
tion of  his  customers.  Now,  it  is  evident,  that  though 
in  each  of  these  cases  there  has  been  what  the  world 
would  call  reformation,  there  has  not  been  saHptural 
repentance.  The  deificiency  of  the  former  term  con- 
sists in  its  having  been  employed  to  denote  a  mere 
change  in  the  deeds  or  in  the  habits  of  the  o\itwaro 
man  ;  and  if  employed  as  equivalent  to  repentance,  ii 


INTRODUCTION.  9 

may  delude  us  into  the  idea  that  tlie  change  by  which 
we  are  made  meet  for  a  happy  eternity  is  a  far  more 
slender  and  superficial  thing  than  it  really  is.  It  is 
of  little  importance  to  be  told  that  the  translator  means 
it  only  in  the  sense  of  a  reformed  conduct,  proceeding 
from  the  influence  of  a  new  and  a  right  principle, 
within.  The  common  meaning  of  the  word  will,  as 
in  the  former  instance,  be  ever  and  anon  intruding 
itself,  and  get  the  better  of  all  the  formal  cautions,  and 
all  the  qualifying  clauses  of  our  Bible  commentators. 
But,  will  not  the  original  word  itself  throw  some 
light  upon  this  important  question?  The  repentance 
which  is  enjoined  as  a  duty — the  repentance  which 
is  unto  salvation — the  repentance  which  sinners  un- 
dergo w^hen  they  pass  to  a  state  of  acceptance  with 
God  from  a  state  of  enmity  against  him — these  are 
all  one  and  the  same  thing,  and  are  expressed  by  one 
and  the  same  word  in  the  original  language  of  the 
New  Testament.  It  is  different  from  the  word  which 
expresses  the  repentance  of  sorrow;  and  if  translated 
according  to  the  parts  of  which  it  is  composed,  it  sig- 
nifies neither  more  nor  less  than  a  change  of  mind. 
This  of  itself  is  safficient  to  prove  the  inadequacy  ot 
tlie  term  reformation — a  term  which  is  often  applied 
to  a  man  upon  the  mere  change  of  his  conduct,  with- 
out ever  adverting  to  the  state  of  his  mind,  or  to  the 
land  of  change  in  motive  and  in  principle  which  it 
has  midergone.  It  is  true,  that  there  can  be  no  change 
in  the  conduct  without  some  change  in  the  inwara 
principle.  A  reformed  drunkard,  before  careless  about 
healtlT  or  fortune,  may  be  so  far  changed  as  to  become 
impressed  with  these  considerations ;  but  this  change 
Is  evidently  short  of  that  which  the  Bible  calls  repent- 
ance toward  God.    It  is  a  change  that  may,  and  ha3 


10  INTRODrCTION. 

taken  place  in  many  a  niiad,  when  there  was  no 
efiectual  sense  of  the  God  who  is  above  us,  and  ol'thc 
eternity  which  is  before  us.  It  is  a  cliange,  brought 
about  by  the  prospect  and  the  calculation  of  worldly 
advantages ;  and,  in  the  enjoyment  of  these  advan- 
tages it  hath  its  sole  reward.  But  it  is  not  done  untc 
God,  and  God  will  not  accept  of  it  as  done  unto  him. 
Reformation  may  signify  nothing  more  than  the  mere 
surface-dressing  of  those  decencies,  and  proprieties, 
and  accomplishments,  and  civil  and  prudential  duties, 
which,  however  fitted  to  secure  a  man's  acceptance 
in  society,  may,  one  and  all  of  them,  consist  with  a 
heart  alienated  from  God,  and  having  every  principle 
and  affection  of  the  inner  man  away  fi  om  him.  TiiiC, 
it  is  such  a  cliange  as  tiie  man  will  reap  benefit  Irom, 
as  his  friends  will  rejoice  in,  as  the  workl  will  call 
reformation ;  but  it  is  not  such  a  change  as  will  m.ake 
him  meet  for  heaven;  nor  is  it,  in  its  import,  what  our 
Savior  speaks  of,  when  he  says,  "  I  tell  you  nay,  ex- 
cept ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise  perish." 

There  is  no  single  word  in  ilie  English  language 
which  occurs  to  us  as  fully  eejual  to  the  faithful  ren- 
dering of  the  term  in  the  original.  Renewedness  oj 
'mind,  however  awkward  a  phrase  this  may  be,  ia 
perhaps  the  most  nearly  expressive  of  it.  Certain  it 
is,  that  it  harmonizes  with  those  other  passages  of  the 
Bible  where  the  process  is  described  by  which  saving 
repentance  is  brought  about.  We  read  of  being 
transformed  by  the  renewing  of  our  minds,  of  the  re- 
newing of  the  Holy  Ghost,  of  being  renewed  in  the 
spirit  of  our  minds.  Scriptural  repentance,  thei^eforej 
is  that  deep  and  radiccd  change  wherehj  a  soid  turns 
from  the  idols  of  sin  and.  of  self  unto  God,  and  de- 
votes every  movement  of  the  inner  and  the  outer  mam 


INTRODUCTION.  11 

to  the  captivity  of  his  obedience.  This  is  the  change 
which,  whether  it  be  expressed  by  one  word  or  not  in 
the  Enghsh  language,  we  would  have  you  well  to 
understand ;  and  reformation  or  change  in  the  out- 
ward conduct,  instead  of  being  saving  and  scriptural 
repentance,  is  what,  in  the  language  of  John  the 
Baptist,  we  would  call  a  fruit  meet  for  it.  But  if 
mischief  is  likely  to  arise,  from  the  want  of  an  ade- 
quate Avord  in  our  language,  to  that  repentance  which 
is  unto  salvation,  there  is  one  effectual  preservative 
against  it — a  firm  and  consistent  exhibition  of  the 
whole  counsel  and  revelation  of  God.  A  man  who  is 
well  read  in  his  New  Testament,  and  reads  it  with 
docility,  will  dismiss  all  his  meagre  conceptions  of 
repentance  when  he  comes  to  the  following  state- 
ments:— "Except  a  man  be  born  again  he  cannot 
see  the  kingdom  of  God."  "  Except  ye  be  converted, 
and  become  as  little  children,  ye  shall  not  enter  into 
the  kingdom  of  heaven."  "  If  any  man  have  not  the 
Spirit  of  Christ  he  is  none  of  his."  "  The  carnal 
mind  is  enmity  against  God ;  and  if  ye  live  after  the 
flesh  ye  shall  die ;  but  if  ye,  through  the  Spirit,  do 
mortify  the  deeds  of  the  body,  ye  shall  live."  "  Be  not 
then  conformed  to  this  world,  but  be  ye  transformed 
by  the  renewing  of  your  minds."  Such  are  the  terms 
employed  to  describe  the  process  by  which  the  soul 
of  man  is  renewed  unto  repentance ;  and,  with  your 
hearts  familiarized  to  the  mighty  import  of  these 
terms,  you  will  carry  with  you  an  effectual  guarantee 
against  those  false  and  flimsy  impressions,  which  are 
so  current  in  the  world,  about  the  preparation  of  a 
sinner  for  eternity.  ***** 

We  should  like,  moreover,  to  reduce  every  man  to 
the  feeling  of  repentance  now  or  the  alternative  ol 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

repentance  never.  We  should  like  to  ila^li  it  upon 
your  convictions,  that,  by  putting  the  call  away  troni 
you  now,  you  put  your  eternity  away  t'roni  you.  We 
should  like  tc  expose  the  whole  amount  of  that  accurs 
ed  infatuation  which  lies  in  delay.  We  should  like  to 
arouse  every  eoul  out  of  its  lethargies,  and  give  noquar 
ter  to  tlie  plea,  of  a  little  more  sleep,  and  a  little  mere 
slumber.  We  should  like  you  to  feel  as  if  the  whole  ot 
your  future  destiny  hinged  on  the  very  first  movement 
to  wliich  you  turned  yourselves.  The  work  of  repent- 
ance must  have  a  beginning;  and  we  should  like  you 
to  kjiow  that,  if  not  begun  to-day,  tiie  chance  will  be 
less  of  its  being  begun  to-morrow.  And  if  the  greater 
chance  has  failed,  what  hope  can  we  build  upon  the 
emaller? — and  a  chance  to  that  is  ahvays  getting 
smaller.  Each  day,  as  it  revolves  over  the  sinner'a 
head,  finds  him  a  harder,  and  a  more  obstinate,  ana 
a  more  helplessly  enslaved  sinner,  than  before.  It 
was  this  consideration  which  gave  Richard  Baxter 
such  earnestness  and  such  urgency  in  his  "  Call,"  He 
knew  that  the  barrier  in  the  Avay  of  the  sinner's  return 
was  strengthened  by  every  act  of  resistance  to  the  call 
which  urges  it.  That  the  refusal  of  this  moment 
hardened  the  man  against  the  next  attack  of  a  Gos- 
pel argument  that  is  brought  to  bear  upon  him.  That 
jf  he  attempted  you  now,  and  he  failed,  when  he  came 
back  upon  you  he  would  find  himself  working  on  a 
more  obstinate  and  uncomplying  subject  than  ever. 
And  therefore  it  is  that  he  ever  feels  as  if  the  present 
were  his  only  opportunity.  That  lie  is  noic  upon  his 
vantage  ground,  and  he  gives  every  energy  of  his 
soul  to  tlie  great  point  of  making  the  most  of  it.  He 
will  put  up  with  none  of  your  evasions.  He  will 
consent  to  none  of  your  postponements.    He  will  pay 


LNTKODUCTION.  13 

respect  to  none  of  your  more  convenient  seasons.  He 
tells  you,  that  the  matter  with  which  he  is  charged 
has  all  the  urgency  of  a  matter  in  hand.  He  speaks 
to  you  with  as  much  earnestness  as  if  he  Imew  that 
you  were  going  to  step  into  eternity  in  half  an  hour. 
He  delivers  his  message  with  as  much  solemnity  as  if 
he  knew  that  this  was  your  last  meeting  on  earth, 
and  that  you  were  never  to  see  each  other  till  you 
stood  together  at  the  judgment-seat.  He  knew  that 
some  mighty  change  must  take  place  in  you  ere  you 
be  fit  for  entering  into  the  presence  of  God ;  and  that 
the  time  in  which,  on  every  plea  of  duty  and  of  inte- 
rest, you  should  bestir  yourselves  to  secure  tliis,  is  the 
present  time.  This  is  the  distmct  point  he  assigns  to 
himself;  and  the  whole  drift  of  his  argument  is  to 
urge  an  instantaneous  choice  of  the  better  part,  by 
teUing  you  how  you  multiply  ervcry  day  the  obstacles 
to  your  future  repentance,  if  you  begin  not  the  work 
of  repentance  now. 

Before  bringing  our  Essay  to  a  close  we  shall  make 
some  observations  on  the  mistakes  concerning  repent- 
ance, which  we  have  endeavored  to  expose,  and  ad- 
duce some  arguments  for  urging  on  the  consciences  of 
our  readers  the  necessity  and  importance  of  imme- 
diate repentance. 

1.  The  work  of  repentance  is  a  work  which  must 
be  done  ere  we  die ;  for,  unless  we  repent,  we  shall  all 
likewise  perish.  Now,  the  easier  this  work  is  in  our 
conception,  we  shall  think  it  the  less  necessary  to  enter 
upon  it  immediately.  We  shall  look  upon  it  as  a 
work  that  may  be  done  at  any  time,  and  therefore  put 
it  off  a  little  longer,  and  a  little  longer.  We  shall, 
nerhaps,  look  forward  to  that  retirement  from  the 
world  and  its  temptations  which  we  figure  old  age  to 
8 


14  INTRODUCTION. 

bring  along  with  it,  and  falling  in  witli  the  too  com- 
mon idea,  that  the  evening  of  life  is  the  appropriate 
season  of  preparation  for  another  world,  we  shall 
think  that  the  author  is  bearing  too  closely  and  too 
urgently  upon  us,  when,  in  the  language  of  the  Bible, 
he  speaks  of  "  to-day ^^^  while  \i  is  called  to-day,  and 
will  let  us  off  ^vith  no  other  repentance  than  repent- 
ance ^himc,"  seeing  that  now  only  is  the  accepted 
time,  and  now  only  the  day  of  salvation,  which  he 
has  a  warrant  to  proclaim  to  us.  Tliis  dilatory  way 
of  it  is  very  much  favored  by  the  mistaken  and  very 
defective  view  of  repentance  which  we  have  attempt- 
ed to  expose.  We  have  some  how  oi-  other  got  into 
the  delusion  that  repentance  is  nothing  bat  sorrow  j 
and  were  we  called  to  fix  upon  the  scene  where  this 
sorrow  is  likely  to  be  felt  in  the  degree  that  it  is  deep- 
est and  most  overwhelming,  we  would  point  to  the 
chamber  of  the  dying  man.  It  is  awful  to  think  that, 
generally  speaking,  this  repentance  of  mere  sorrow  is 
the  only  repentance  of  a  death-bed.  Yes !  we  shall 
meet  with  sensibiHty  deep  enough  and  painful  enough 
there — with  regret  in  all  its  bitterness — with  terror 
mustering  up  its  images  of  despair,  and  dwelling 
upon  them  in  all  the  gloom  of  an  affrighted  imagina- 
tion ;  and  this  is  mistaken,  not  merely  for  the  drapery 
of  repentance,  but  for  tlie  very  substance  of  it.  We 
look  forward,  and  we  count  upon  this — that  the  sins 
of  a  life  are  to  be  expunged  by  the  sighing  and  sor- 
rowing of  the  last  days  of  it.  We  should  give  up  this 
wretchedly  superficial  notion  of  repentance,  and  cease, 
from  this  moment,  to  be  led  astray  by  it.  The  mind 
may  sorrow  over  its  corruptions  at  the  very  time  that 
.H  is  under  the  power  of  them.  A  man  may  weep 
most  bitterly  over  the  perversities  of  his  moral  consti- 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

tution;  but  to  change  that  constitution,  under  the 
workings  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  is  a  ditTerent  affair. 
Now,  this  is  the  mighty  Avork  of  repentance.  He  who 
has  undergone  it  is  no  longer  the  servant  of  sin.  He 
dies  unto  sin,  he  lives  unto  God.  A  sense  of  the  au- 
thority of  God  is  ever  present  with  him,  to  wield  the 
ascendancy  of  a  great  master-principle  over  all  liis 
movements — to  call  forth  every  purpcBe,  and  to  carry 
it  forward,  through  all  the  opposition  of  sin  and  of 
Satan,  into  accomplishment.  This  is  the  grand  revo- 
lution in  the  state  of  the  mind  which  repentance 
brings  along  with  it.  To  grieve  because  this  work  is 
not  done,  is  a  very  different  thing  from  the  doing  of  it. 
A  deathbed  is  the  very  best  scene  for  acting  the  first , 
but  it  is  the  very  worst  for  acting  the  second.  The  re- 
pentance of  Judas  has  often  been  acted  there.  We 
ought  to  tliink  of  the  work  in  all  its  magnitude,  and 
not  to  put  it  off"  to  that  awful  period  when  the  soul  is 
crowded  with  other  things,  and  has  to  maintain  its 
weary  struggle  with  the  pains,  and  the  distresses, 
and  the  shiverings,  and  the  breathless  agonies  of  a 
deathbed. 

2.  There  are  two  views  that  may  be  taken  of  the 
way  in  which  repentance  is  brought  about,  and  which- 
ever of  them  is  adopted,  delay  carries  along  with  it 
the  saddest  infatuation.  It  may  be  looked  upon  as 
a  step  taken  by  man  as  a  voluntary  agent^  and  we 
would  ask  you,  upon  your  experience  of  the  powers 
and  the  performances  of  humanity,  if  a  deathbed  is 
the  time  for  taking  such  a  step  1  Is  this  a  time  for  a 
voluntary  being  exercising  a  vigorous  control  over  his 
own  movements'?  When  racked  with  pain,  and  borne 
down  by  the  pressure  of  a  sore  and  overwhelming 
calamity  ?  Surely  the  greater  the  work  of  repentance 


16  INTRODUCTION. 

is,  the  more  ease,  the  more  time,  the  more  freedom 
from  suffering,  is  necessary  for  carrying  it  on ;  and, 
therefore,  addressing  you  as  voluntary  beings,  as 
beings  who  will  and  wlio  do,  we  call  upon  you  to  seek 
God  early  that  you  may  find  him — to  haste,  and  make 
no  delay  in  keeping  his  commandments. 

The  other  view  is,  that  repentance  is  not  a  self^ 
originating  work  in  man,  but  the  work  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  in  him  as  the  subject  of  its  influences.  This 
view  is  not  opposite  to  the  former.  It  is  true  that  man 
wills  and  does  at  every  step  in  the  business  of  his  sal- 
vation ;  and  it  is  as  true  that  God  works  in  him  so  to 
will  and  to  do.  Take  this  last  view  of  it  then.  Look 
on  repentance  as  the  work  of  Grod's  Spirit  in  the  soul 
of  man,  and  we  are  furnished  Avith  a  more  impressive 
argument  than  ever,  and  set  on  higher  vantage  for 
urging  you  to  stir  yourselves,  and  set  about  it  im- 
mediately. What  is  it  that  you  propose  ?  To  keep 
by  your  present  habits,  and  your  present  indulgences, 
and  build  yourselves  up  all  the  while  in  the  confidence 
that  the  Spirit  will  interpose  with  his  mighty  power 
of  conversion  upon  you,  at  the  very  point  of  time  that 
you  have  fixed  upon  as  convenient  and  agreeable? 
And  how  do  you  conciliate  the  Spirit's  answer  to  your 
call  then?  Why,  by  doing  all  you  can  to  grieve,  and 
to  quench,  and  to  provoke  him  to  abandon  you  now. 
Do  you  feel  a  motion  tOAvard  repentance  at  this  mo- 
ment? If  you  keep  it  alive,  and  act  upon  it,  good  and 
well.  But  if  you  smother  and  suppress  this  motion, 
you  resist  the  Spirit — you  stifle  his  movements  within 
you ;  it  is  what  the  impenitent  do  day  after  day,  and 
year  after  year — and  is  this  the  way  for  securing  the 
influences  of  the  Spirit  at  the  time  that  you  would 
like  them  best  ?  When  you  are  done  with  the  workl, 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

and  are  looking  forward  to  eternity  because  you  can- 
not help  it?  God  says,  "My  Spirit  shall  not  always 
strive  with  man."  A  good  and  a  free  Spirit  he  un- 
doubtedly is,  and,  as  a  proof  of  it,  he  is  now  saying, 
"  Let  whosoever  will,  come  and  take  of  the  water  of 
life  freely."  He  says  so  now,  but  we  do  not  promise 
that  he  will  say  so  with  effect  upon  your  deathbeds, 
if  you  refuse  liim  now.  You  look  forward  then  for  a 
powerful  work  of  conversion  being  done  upon  you,  and 
yet  you  employ  yourselves  all  your  life  long  in  raising 
and  multiplying  obstacles  against  it.  You  count  upon 
a  miracle  of  grace  before  you  die,  and  the  way  you 
take  to  make  yourselves  sure  of  it,  is  to  grieve  and 
offend  him  while  you  live,  who  alone  can  perform  the 
miracle.  O  what  cruel  deceits  will  sin  land  us  in ! 
and  how  artfully  it  pleads  for  a  "little  more  sleep,  and 
a  little  more  slumber;  a  little  more  folding  of  the 
hands  to  sleep."  We  should  hold  out  no  longer,  nor 
make  such  an  abuse  of  the  forbearance  of  God :  we 
shall  treasure  up  wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath  if 
we  do  so.  The  genuine  effect  of  his  g<2odness  is  to 
lead  us  to  repentance ;  let  not  its  effect  upon  us  be  to 
harden  and  encourage  ourselves  in  the  ways  of  sin. 
We  should  cry  now  for  the  clean  heart  and  the  right 
spirit ;  and  such  is  the  exceeding  freeness  of  the  Spirit 
of  God,  that  we  shall  be  listened  to.  If  we  put  off  the 
cry  till  then,  the  same  God  may  laugh  at  our  calam- 
ity, and  mock  when  our  fear  cometh. 

3.  Our  next  argument  for  immediate  repentance  is, 
that  we  camiot  bring  forward,  at  any  future  period  of 
your  history,  any  considerations  of  a  more  prevailing 
or  more  powerfully  moving  influence  than  those  we 
may  bring  forward  at  this  moment.  We  can  tell  you 
now  of  the  terrors  of  the  Lord,  we  can  tell  you  now 


18  INTROnnCTION. 

of  the  solemn  mandates  which  have  issued  from  his 
throne — and  the  authority  of  which  is  upon  one  and 
all  of  you.  We  can  tell  you  now,  that  though,  in 
this  dead  and  darkened  world,  sin  appears  but  a 
very  trivial  affair — for  every  body  sins,  and  it  is 
shielded  from  execration  by  the  universal  countenance 
of  an  entire  species  lying  in  wickedness — yet  it  holds 
true  of  God,  what  is  so  emphatically  said  of  him,  that 
he  cannot  be  mocked,  nor  will  he  endure  it  that  you 
should  riot  m  the  impunity  of  your  wilful  resistance 
to  him  and  to  his  warnings.  We  can  tell  you  now, 
that  he  is  a  God  of  vengeance ;  and  though,  for  a 
season,  he  is  keeping  back  all  the  thunder  of  it  from  a 
Avorld  that  he  would  reclaim  unto  himself,  yet,  if  you 
put  all  his  expostulations  away  from  you,  and  will  not 
be  reclaimed,  these  thunders  will  be  let  loose  upon 
you,  and  they  will  fall  on  your  guilty  heads,  armed 
with  tenfold  energy,  because  you  have  not  only  defied 
his  threats,  but  turned  your  back  on  his  offers  of  re- 
conciliation. These  are  the  arguments  by  which  Ave 
would  try  to  open  our  way  to  your  consciences,  and  to 
awaken  up  your  fears,  and  to  put  the  inspiring  activity 
of  hope  into  your  bosoms,  by  laying  before  you  those 
invitations  which  are  addressed  to  tlie  sinner,  through 
the  peace-speaking  blood  of  Jesus,  and,  in  the  name 
of  a  beseeching  God,  to  win  your  acceptance  of  ihem. 
At  no  future  period  can  we  address  arguments  more 
powerful  and  more  affecting  tlian  these.  If  these  ar- 
guments do  not  prevail  upon  you,  we  know  of  none 
others  by  which  a  victory  over  the  stubborn  and  un- 
complymg  will  can  be  accomplished,  or  by  which  we 
can  ever  hope  to  beat  in  that  sullen  front  of  resistance 
wherewith  you  now  so  impregnably  withstand  us. 
We  leel  that,  if  any  stout-hearted  sinner  shall  rise 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

from  the  perusal  of  this  "  Call  to  the  Unconverted " 
with  an  unawakened  conscience,  and  give  himself  up 
to  wilful  disobedience — we  feel  as  if,  in  reference  to 
him,  we  had  made  our  last  discharge,  and  it  fell 
powerless  as  water  spilt  on  the  ground,  that  cannot  be 
gathered  up  again.  Therefore  it  is  that  we  speak  to 
you  now  as  if  this  was  our  last  hold  of  you.  We  feel 
as  if  on  your  present  purpose  hung  all  the  prepara- 
tions of  your  future  life,  and  all  the  rewards  or  all  the 
horrors  of  your  coming  eternity.  "We  will  not  let  you 
off  with  any  other  repentance  than  repentance  now ; 
and  if  this  be  refused  now,  we  cannot,  with  our  eyes 
open  to  the  consideration  we  have  now  urged,  that 
the  instrument  we  can  make  to  bear  upon  you  here- 
after is  not  more  powerful  than  we  are  wielding  now, 
coupled  with  another  consideration  which  we  shall 
insist  upon,  that  the  subject  on  which  the  instrument 
worketh,  even  the  heart  of  man,  gathers,  by  every 
act  of  resistance,  a  more  uncomplying  obstinacy  than 
before ;  we  cannot,  with  these  two  thoughts  in  our 
mind,  look  forward  to  your  future  history,  without 
seeing  spread  over  the  whole  path  of  it  the  iron  of  a 
harder  impenitenc}^ — the  sullen  gloom  of  a  deeper 
and  more  determined  alienation. 

4.  Another  argument,  therefore,  for  immediate  re- 
pentance is,  that  the  mine'  which  resists  a  present  call 
or  a  present  reproof,  undergoes  a  progressive  harden- 
ing' toward  all  tliose  considerations  which  arm  the 
call  of  repentance  with  all  its  energy.  It  is  not  enough 
to  say,  that  the  instrument  by  which  repentance  is 
brought  about,  is  not  more  powerful  to-morrow  than 
it  is  to-day ;  it  lends  a  most  tremendous  weight  to  the 
argument,  to  say  further,  that  the  subject  on  which 
this  instrament  is  putting  forth  its  efficiency,  will  op- 


20  INTRODUCTION. 

pose  a  firmer  resistence  to-morrow  than  it  does  to-day. 
It  is  this  which  gives  a  significancy  so  powerful  to  the 
call  of  "  To-day  while  it  is  to-day,  harden  not  your 
hearts ;"  and  to  the  admonition  of  "  Knowest  thou  not, 
O  man,  that  the  goodness  of  God  leadeth  thee  to  re- 
pentance; but  after,  thy  hardness  and  impenitent 
heart  treasurest  up  wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath 
and  revelation  of  the  righteous  judgments  of  God?" 
It  is  not  said,  either  in  the  one  or  in  the  otlier  of  these 
passages,  that,  by  the  present  refusal,  you  cut  your- 
self off  from  a  future  invitation.  The  invitation  may 
be  sounded  in  your  hearing  to  the  last  half  hour  of 
your  earthly  existence,  engraved  in  all  those  charac- 
ters of  free  and  gratuitous  kindness  which  mark  the 
beneficent  religion  of  the  New  Testament.  But  the 
present  refusal  hardens  you  against  the  power  and 
tenderness  of  the  future  invitation.  This  is  the  fact 
in  human  nature  to  which  these  passages  seem  to 
point,  and  it  is  the  fact  through  which  the  argument 
for  immediate  repentance  receives  such  powerful  aid 
from  the  wisdom  of  experience.  It  is  this  which  form? 
the  most  impressive  proof  of  the  necessity  of  plying 
the  young  with  all  the  weight  and  all  the  tenderness 
of  earnest  admonition,  that  the  now  susceptible  mind 
might  not  turn  into  a  substance  harder  and  more  un- 
complying than  the  rock  which  is  broken  in  pieces 
by  the  powerful  application  of  the  hammer  of  the 
word  of  Got'. 

The  metal  of  the  human  soul,  so  to  speak,  is  like 
some  material  substances.  If  the  force  you  lay  upon 
it  do  not  break  it,  or  dissolve  it,  it  will  beat  it  into 
hardness.  If  the  moral  argument  by  which  it  is  plied, 
now,  do  not  so  soften  the  mind  as  to  carry  and  to  over- 
nowcr  its  purposes,  then,  on  another  day.  the  argu- 


INTRODUCTION.  21 

ment  may  be  put  forth  in  terms  as  impreeeive — but  it 
falls  on  a  harder  mind,  and,  therefore,  with  a  more 
slender  efficiency.  If  the  threat,  that  ye  who  persist 
in  sin  shall  have  to  dwell  with  the  devouring  fire,  and 
to  he  down  amid  everla^ing  burnings,  do  not  alarm 
you  out  of  your  iniquities  from  this  very  moment,  then 
the  same  threat  may  be  again  cast  out,  and  the  same 
appalling  circumstances  of  terror  be  thrown  around  it, 
but  It  is  all  discharged  on  a  soul  hardened  by  its  inure- 
ment to  the  thunder  of  denunciations  already  uttered, 
and  the  urgency  of  menacing  threatenings  already 
poured  forth  without  fruit  and  without  efficacy.  If 
the  voice  of  a  beseeching  God  do  not  win  upon  you 
now,  and  charm  you  out  of  your  rebellion  against  him, 
by  the  persuasive  energy  of  kindness,  then  let  that 
voice  be  lifted  in  your  hearing  on  some  future  day, 
and  though  armed  with  all  the  power  of  tenderness 
it  ever  had,  how  shall  it  find  its  entrance  into  a  heart 
sheathed  by  the  operation  of  habit,  that  universal  law, 
in  more  impenetrable  obstinacy  ?  If,  with  tlie  earliest 
dawn  of  your  understanding,  you  have  been  offered 
the  hire  of  the  morning  laborer  and  have  refused  it, 
then  the  parable  does  not  say  that  you  are  the  person 
who  at  the  third,  or  sixth,  or  ninth,  or  eleventh  hour, 
will  get  the  offer  repeated  to  you.  It  is  true,  that  the 
offer  is  unto  all  and  upon  all  who  are  within  reach  of 
the  hearing  of  it.  But  there  is  all  the  difference  in 
the  world  between  the  impression  of  a  new  offer,  eind 
of  an  offer  that  has  already  been  often  heard  and  as 
often  rejected — an  offer  which  comes  upon  you  witli 
ail  the  familiarity  of  a  well-lmown  sound  that  you 
have  already  learned  how  to  dispose  of,  and  how  to 
shut  your  every  feeling  against  the  power  of  its  gra- 
cious invitations — an  offer  which,  if  discarded  from 
your  heai-ts  at  the  present  moment,  may  come  back 


22  INTRODUCTION. 

upon  yon,  but  which  will  have  to  maintain  a  more 
Uiiequal  contest  than  before,  with  an  impenitency  ever 
strengthening,  ami  ever  gathering  new  hardness  from 
each  saccessive  act  of  resistance.  And  thus  it  is  that 
tlie  point  for  which  we  are  contending  is  not  to  carry 
you  at  some  future  period  of  your  livee,  but  to  carry 
you  at  this  moment.  It  is  to  work  in  you  the  instan- 
taneous purpose  of  a  firm  and  a  vigorously  sustained 
repentance ;  it  is  to  put  into  you  all  the  freshness  of 
an  immediate  resolution,  and  to  stir  you  up  to  all  the 
reacUness  of  an  immediate  accomplishment — it  is  to 
give  direction  to  the  very  first  footstep  you  are  now 
to  take,  and  lead  you  to  take  it  as  the  commencement 
of  that  holy  career  in  which  all  old  things  are  done 
away,  and  all  things  become  new — it  is  to  press  it 
upon  you,  that  the  state  of  the  alternative,  at  this  mo- 
ment, is  "now  or  never" — it  is  to  prove  how  fearful 
the  odds  are  against  you,  if  now  you  suffer  the  call  of 
repentance  to  light  upon  your  conscionces,  and  still 
keep  by  your  determined  posture  of  careless,  and 
thoughtless,  and  thankless  unconcern  about  God.  You 
have  resisted  to-day,  and  by  that  resistance  you  have 
acquired  a  firmer  metal  of  resistance  against  the 
power  of  every  future  warning  that  may  be  brought 
to  bear  upon  you.  You  have  stood  your  ground 
against  the  urgency  of  the  most  earnest  admonitions, 
and  against  the  dreadfalness  of  the  most  terrifying 
menaces.  On  that  gromid  you  have  fixed  yourself 
more  immovably  than  before ;  and  tliough  on  some 
future  day  the  same  spiritual  thunder  be  made  to  play 
iround  you,  it  will  not  shake  you  out  of  the  obstinacy 
oJ'  your  determined  rebellion. 

It  is  the  miiversal  law  of  habit,  that  the  feelings  are 
always  getting  more  faintly  and  feebly  impressed  by 
every  repetition  of  the  cause  which  excited  tliem,  and 


INTRODUCTION.  23 

that  the  mind  is  always  getting  stronger  in  its  active 
resistance  to  the  impulse  of  these  leelings,  by  every 
new  deed  of  resistance  which  it  performs ;  and  thus  it 
is,  that  if  you  refuse  us  now,  we  have  no  other  pros- 
pect before  us  than  that  your  course  is  every  day 
getting  more  desperate  and  more  irrecoverable,  your 
souls  are  getting  more  hardened,  the  Spirit  is  getting 
more  provoked  to  abandon  those  who  have  so  long 
persisted  in  their  opposition  to  his  movements.  God, 
who  says  that  his  Spirit  shall  not  always  strive  witli 
man,  is  getting  more  offended.  The  tyranny  of  habit 
is  getting  every  day  a  firmer  ascendancy  over  you , 
Satan  is  getting  you  more  helplessly  involved  among 
his  wiles  and  his  entanglements ;  the  world,  with  all 
the  inveteracy  of  those  desires  which  are  opposite  to 
the  will  of  the  Father,  is  more  and  more  lording  it 
over  your  every  affection.  And  what,  we  would  ask, 
what  is  the  scene  in  which  you  are  now  purposing  to 
contest  it,  with  all  tliis  mighty  force  of  opposition  you 
are  now  so  busy  in  raising  up  against  you  ?  What  is 
the  field  of  combat  to  which  you  are  now  looking 
forward,  as  the  place  where  you  are  to  accomplish  a 
victory  over  all  those  formidable  enemies  whom  you 
are  at  present  arming  with  such  a  weight  of  hostility, 
as,  we  say,  Avitliin  a  single  hairbreadth  of  certainty, 
you  will  find  to  be  irresistible?  O  the  bigness  of  such 
a  misleading  infatuation !  The  proposed  scene  in 
which  this  battle  for  eternity  i??  to  be  fought,  and  this 
victory  for  the  crown  of  glory  is  to  be  won,  is  a  death- 
bed. It  is  w^hen  the  last  messenger  stands  by  the 
couch  of  the  dying  man,  and  shakes  at  him  the  ter- 
rors of  his  grisly  countenance,  that  the  poor  child  of 
infatuation  tliinks  he  is  to  struggle  and  prevail  against 
all  his  enemies;  against  tlie  unrelenting  tyranny  of 
habit — against  the  obstinacy  of  his  own  heart,  which 


24  INTUODUCriON. 

}ie  is  now  doing  bo  much  to  harden — against  tlio 
Spirit  of  God  who  perhaps  long  ere  now  has  pro- 
nounced the  doom  upon  liim,  "  He  will  take  his  o^vn 
way,  and  walk  in  his  own  counsel ;  I  shall  cease  from 
striving,  and  let  him  alone" — against  Satan,  to  whom 
every  day  of  his  life  he  has  given  some  fresh  advan- 
tage over  him,  and  who  will  not  be  willing  to  lose 
ihe  victim  on  whom  he  has  practised  so  many  wiles, 
and  plied  with  success  so  many  delusions.  And  such 
are  the  enemies  whom  you,  who  wretchedly  calculate 
on  the  repentance  of  the  eleventh  hour,  are  every  day 
mustering  up  in  greater  force  and  formidableness 
against  you ;  and  how  can  we  think  of  letting  you 
go  with  any  other  repentance  than  the  repentance  of 
the  precious  moment  that  is  now  passing  over  you, 
when  we  look  forward  to  the  horrors  of  that  impressive 
scene  on  which  you  propose  to  win  the  prize  of  im- 
mortality, and  to  contest  it  singlehanded  and  alone, 
with  all  the  weight  of  opposition  which  you  have 
accumulated  against  yourselves — a  deathbed — a  lan- 
guid, breathless,  tossing,  and  agitated  deathbed ;  that 
scene  of  feebleness,  when  the  poor  man  cannot  help 
himself  to  a  single  mouthful — when  he  must  have 
attendants  to  sit  around  hrm.  and  watch  his  every 
wish,  and  interpret  his  every  signal,  and  turn  him  to 
every  posture  where  he  may  find  a  moment's  ease, 
and  wipe  away  the  cold  sweat  that  is  running  over 
him — and  ply  him  with  cordials  for  thirst,  and  sick- 
ness, and  insufferable  languor.  And  this  is  the  time, 
wiien  occupied  with  such  feelings,  and  beset  with 
such  agonies  as  these,  you  propose  to  crowd  within 
the  compass  of  a  few  wretched  days  the  work  of 
winding  up  the  concerns  of  a  neglected  eternity! 

5.  But  it  may  be  said,  "  If  repentance  be  what  you 
cepresent  it,  a  thing  of  such  mighty  import,  and  sucli 


LNTRODUCTION.  23 

impracticable  peribrmance,  as  a  chancre  of  mind,  in 
what  rational  way  can  it  be  made  the  subject  of  a 
precept  or  injmiction?  you  would  not  call  upon  the 
Ethiopian  to  change  his  skin — you  would  not  call 
upon  the  leopard  to  change  his  spots ;  and  yet  you  call 
upon  us  to  change  our  minds.  You  say,  "  Repent ;" 
and  that  too  in  the  face  of  the  undeniable  doctrine,  that 
man  is  without  strength  for  the  achievement  of  so 
mighty  an  enterprise.  Can  you  tell  us  any  plain  and 
practicable  thing  that  you  would  have  us  to  perform, 
and  that  we  may  perform,  to  help  on  this  business?" 
This  is  the  very  question  with  which  the  hearers  of 
John  the  Baptist  came  back  upon  him,  after  he  had 
told  them  in  general  terms  to  repent,  and  to  bring  forth 
fruils  meet  for  repentance.  He  may  not  have  resolved 
the  difficulty,  but  he  pointed  the  expectation  of  his 
countrymen  to  a  greater  than  he  for  the  solution  of  it. 
Now  that  Teacher  has  already  come,  and  we  live 
under  the  full  and  the  finished  splendor  of  his  revela- 
tion. O  that  the  greatness  and  difficulty  of  the  work 
of  repentance  had  the  effect  of  shutting  you  up  into 
the  faith  of  Christ !  Repentance  is  not  a  paltry,  super- 
ficial reformation.  It  reaches  deep  into  the  inner  man, 
but  not  too  deep  for  the  searching  influences  of  that 
Spirit  which  is  at  his  giving,  and  which  worketh 
mightily  in  the  hearts  of  believers.  You  should  go 
then  under  a  sense  of  your  difficulty  to  Him.  Seek 
te  be  rooted  in  the  Savior,  that  you  may  be  nourished 
out  of  his  fulness,  and  strengthened  by  his  might. 
The  simple  cry  for  a  clean  heart,  and  a  right  spirit, 
which  is  raised  from  the  mouth  of  a  believer,  brings 
down  an  answer  from  on  high  which  explains  all  the 
difficulty  and  overcomes  it.  And  if  what  we  have 
said  of  the  extent  and  magnitude  Oi"  repentance,  should 
have  the  effect  to  give  a  deeper  feeling  than  before  of 


So  INTRODUCTION. 

the  wants  under  which  you  labor ;  and  shall  dispose 
you  to  seek  after  a  closer  and  more  habitual  union 
with  Him  who  alone  can  supply  them,  then  will  our 
call  to  repent  have  indeed  fulfilled  upon  you  the  ap- 
pointed end  of  a  preparation  for  the  Savior.  But  re- 
collect now  is  your  time,  and  now  is  your  opportunity, 
for  entering  on  the  road  of  preparation  that  leads  to 
heaven.  We  charge  you  to  enter  this  road  at  this 
moment)  as  you  value  your  deliverance  from  hell,  and 
your  possession  of  that  blissful  place  where  you  shall 
be  for  ever  with  the  Lord — we  charge  you  not  to 
parry  and  to  delay  this  matter,  no  not  for  a  single 
hour — we  call  on  you  by  all  that  is  great  in  eternity — 
by  all  that  is  terrifying  in  ^ts  horrors — by  all  that  is 
alluring  in  its  rewards — by  all  that  is  binding  in  the 
authority  of  God — by  all  that  is  condemning  in  the 
severity  of  his  violated  law,  and  by  all  that  can  aggra- 
vate this  condemnation  in  the  insulting  contempt  of 
liis  rejected  gospel ; — we  call  on  you  by  one  and  al- 
of  these  considerations,  not  to  hesitate,  but  to  flee — 
not  to  purpose  a  return  for  to-morrow,  but  to  make 
an  actual  return  this  very  day — to  put  a  decisive  end 
to  every  plan  of  wickedness  on  which  you  may  have 
entered — to  cease  your  hands  from  all  that  is  forbid- 
den— to  turn  them  to  all  that  is  required — to  betake 
yourselves  to  the  appointed  Mediator,  and  receive 
through  him,  by  the  prayer  of  faith,  such  constant 
supplies  of  the  washing  of  regeneration  and  renewing 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  that,  from  this  moment,  you  may 
be  carried  forward  from  one  degree  of  grace  unto 
another,  and  from  a  life  devoted  to  God  here,  to  the 
elevation  of  a  triumphant,  and  the  joys  of  a  blissfd 
eternity  hereafter.  T.  C 

gt.  Andrc\'''s,  October,  1825. 


CONTEl^TS. 

The  Text  opened,  ...  31 

Doctrine  I. — It  is  the  unchangeable  law  of  God,  that 
wicked  men  must  turn  or  die — Proved,  .  34 

God  will  not  be  so  unmerciful  as  to  damn  us — 
Answered,       .  .  .  .  .37 

The  Use, 40 

Who  are  wicked  men,  and  what  conversion  is ;  and 
how  we  may  know  whether  we  are  wicked  or  con- 
verted, .....  43 
Applied,         .....  50 

DocT.  II, — It  is  the  promise  of  God  that  the  wicked 
shall  live,  if  they  will  but  turn ;  unfeignedly  and 
thoroughly  turn — Proved,  ...  61 

DocT.  III. — God  taketh  pleasure  in  men's  conversion 
and  salvation,  but  not  in  their  death  or  damnation 
He  had  rather  they  would  turn  and  live,  than  go  on 
and  die — Expounded — Proved,  .  .  68 

OocT.  IV. — The  Lord  hath  confirmed  it  to  us  by  his 
oath.  That  he  has  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the 
wicked,  but  rather  that  he  turn  and  live;  that  he 
may  leave  man  no  pretence  to  question  the  truth 
of  it, 75 

Use.. — Who  is  it,  then,  that  takes  pleasure  in  men's 
sin  and  death  ? — Not  God,  nor  ministers,  nor  any 
good  men,  .....  76 

DocT.  V. — So  earnest  is  God  for  the  conversion  of 
sinners,  that  he  doubleth  his  commands  and  exhor 
tations  Avith  vehemency,   "Turn  ye.  Turn  ye," 
Applied,        ....  82 

Some  motives  to  obey  God's  call,  and  turn,  85 


28  CONTENTS. 

DocT.  VI. — The  Lord  condesceiidolli  to  reason  the 
case  witii  unconverted  sinners,  and  ask  them,  Why 
they  will  die?  ....  97 

A  strange  disputation : — 1.  For  the  question.     2. 
The  disputants. 

Wicked  men  will  die  or  destroy  themselves. 
Use. — The  sinner's  case  is  certainly  unreasonable,      102 
Their  seeming  reasons  confuted,  .  .         108 

Question. — Why  are  men  so  unreasonable,  and  loath 

to  turn,  and  will  destroy  themselves? — Answered,     119 
DocT.  VII. — If  after  all  this,  men  will  not  turn,  it  is 
not  God's  fault  that  they  are  condemned,  but  their 
own,  even  their  own  wilfulness.  They  die  because 
they  will ;  that  is,  because  they  will  not  turn,  122 

Use,  1. — How  unfit  the  wicked  are  to  charge  God 
with  their  damnation.     It  is  not  because  God  is 
unmerciful,  but  because  they  are  cruel  and  mer- 
ciless to  themselves,  .  .  .  120 
Object. — We  cannot  convert  ourselves,  nor  have 

we  Free-will — Answered,  .  .  .       134 

Use  2. — The  subtlety  of  Satan,  the  deceitfulness  of 

sin,  and  the  folly  of  sinners  manifested,         .  136 

Use,  3. — No  wonder  if  the  wicked  would  hinder  the 

conversion  and  salvation  of  others,         .  .       13G 

Use,  4. — Man  is  the  greatest  enemy  to  himself,  137 

Man's  destruction  is  of  himself — Proved,  .       139 

The  heinous  aggravations  of  self-destroying,  .       J44 

The  concluding  exhortation,  .  .  .       146 

Ten  Directions  for  those  who  had  rather  turn  than 
die,      ......  151 


THE    GREAT     SUCCESS    WHICH     ATTENDED     THE 
CALL    WHEN    FIRST    PUBLISHED. 

It  may  be  proper  lo  prefix  an  account  of  this  book  given 
by  Mr.  Baxter  himself,  which  was  found  in  his  study,  after 
his  death,  in  his  own  words: 

"  I  published  a  short  treatise  on  conversion,  entitled,  A 
Call  to  the  Unconverted.  The  occasion  of  this  was  my 
converse  with  Bishop  Usher  while  I  was  at  London ;  who, 
approving  my  method  and  directions  for  Peace  of  Con- 
science, was  importunate  with  me  to  write  directions 
suited  to  the  various  states  of  Christians,  and  also  against 
particular  sins.  I  reverenced  the  man,  but  disregarded 
these  persuasions,  supposing  I  could  do  nothing  but  what 
is  done  better  already :  but  when  he  was  dead,  his  words 
went  deeper  to  my  mind,  and  I  purposed  to  obey  his  coun- 
sel; yet,  so  as  that  to  the  first  sort  of  men,  the  ungodly, 
1  thought  vehement  persuasions  meeter  than  directions 
only;  and  so  for  such  I  published  this  little  book,  which 
God  hath  blessed  with  unexpected  success,  beyond  all  the 
rest  that  I  have  written,  except  The  Saint's  Rest.  In  a 
little  more  than  a  year  there  were  about  twenty  thousand 
of  them  printed  by  my  own  consent,  and  about  ten  thou 
sand  since,  beside  many  thousands  by  stolen  impressions, 
which  poor  men  stole  for  lucre's  sake.  Through  God's 
mercy  I  have  information  of  almost  whole  households 
converted  by  this  small  book  which  I  set  so  light  by;  and, 
as  if  all  this  in  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  were  not 
mercy  enough  to  me,  God,  s.-nce  I  was  silenced,  hath  sent 
it  over  in  his  message  to  many  beyond  the  seas ;  for  when 


30  ADVERTISEMENT. 

Mr.  Elliot  had  printed  all  the  Bible  in  the  Indian  language, 
he  next  translated  this  my  Call  to  the  Unconverted,  as  he 
wrote  to  us  here.  And  yet  God  would  make  some  farther 
use  of  it ;  for  Mr.  Stoop,  the  pastor  of  the  French  Church 
in  London,  being  driven  hence  by  the  displeasure  of  his 
superiors,  was  pleased  to  translate  it  into  French.  I  hope 
it  will  not  be  unprofitable  tliere ;  nor  in  Germany,  wfcece 
also  it  has  been  printed." 

It  may  be  proper  further  to  mention  Dr.  Bates'  account 
of  the  author,  and  of  this  useful  treatise  In  his  sermon 
at  Mr.  Baxter's  funeral,  he  thus  says :  "  His  books  of 
practical  divinity  have  been  effectual  for  more  conver- 
sions of  sinners  to  God  than  any  printed  in  our  time  :  and 
while  the  church  remains  on  earth,  will  be  of  continual 
efficacy  to  recover  lost  souls.  There  is  a  vigorous  pulse 
in  them,  that  keeps  the  reader  awake  and  attentive.  His 
Call  to  the  Unconverted,  how  small  in  bulk,  but  how 
powerful  in  virtue  I  Truth  speaks  in  it  with  that  authority 
and  efficacy,  that  it  makes  the  reader  to  lay  his  hand  upon 
his  heart,  and  find  that  he  has  a  soul  and  a  conscience, 
though  he  lived  before  as  if  he  had  none.  He  told  some 
friends,  that  six  brothers  were  converted  by  reading  that 
Call;  and  that  every  week  he  received  letters  of  some 
converted  by  his  books.  This  he  spake  with  most  hum- 
ble thankfulness,  that  God  was  pleased  to  use  him  as  an 
instrument  for  the  salvation  of  soul^." 


A  CAIiL 

EZEKIEL, 

Say  unto  them,  As  Hive,  saith  the  Lord  God,  I  have 
no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked;  but  that 
the  wicked  turn  from  his  way  and  live:  turn  ye^ 
turn  ye  from  your  evil  ways;  for  why  will  ye  die, 
Ohou^e  of  Israel? 

It  hath  been  the  astonishing  wonder  of  many  a 
man  £is  well  as  me,  to  read  in  the  Holy  Scriptures  how 
few  will  be  saved,  and  that  the  greatest  part  even  of 
those  that  are  called,  Avill  be  everlastingly  shut  out  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  be  tormented  -with  the 
devils  in  eternal  fire.  Infidels  beUeve  not  tliis  when 
they  read  it,  and  therefore  they  must  feel  it ;  those 
that  do  beheve  it  are  forced  to  cry  out  with  Paul, 
(Rom.  11.  13,)  "  O  the  depth  of  the  riches  both  of  the 
wisdom  and  knowledge  of  God !  How  unsearchable 
are  his  judgments,  and  Ms  ways  past  finding  out !" 
But  nature  iiself '  doth  teach  us  all  to  lay  the  blame 
of  evil  works  upon  tlie  doers ;  and  therefore  when  we 
see  any  heinous  thing  done,  a  principle  of  justice  dotJi 
provoke  us  to  inquire  after  him  that  did  it,  that  the 
evil  of  the  work  may  return  the  evi\  of  shame  upon 
the  author.  If  we  saw  a  man  killed  and  cut  in  pieces 
by  the  way,  we  w^ould  presently  ask.  Oh !  who  did 
this  cruel  deed?  If  the  town  was  wilfully  set  on  fire, 
you  would  ask,  what  wicked  wretch  did  this?  So 
when  we  read  that  many  souk  will  be  miserable  in 
hell  for  ever,  we  must  needs  think  with  ourselves,  how 
comes  this  to  pass?  and  whose  fault  is  it?  Who  is  it 


32  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  1- 

ihat  is  so  cruel  as  to  be  the  cause  of  sucli  a  thiiic^  as 
this  ?  and  we  can  meet  with  few  tliat  will  own  the 
guilt.  It  is  indeed  confessed  by  all,  that  Satan  is  the 
cause  J  but  that  doth  not  resolve  tl:ie  doubt,  because 
l>e  is  not  the  principal  cause.  He  doth  not  force  men 
to  sin,  but  tempts  them  to  it,  and  leaves  it  to  their 
own  wills  whether  they  will  do  it  or  not.  He  doth  not 
carry  men  to  an  alehouse  and  force  open  their  moutha 
and  pour  in  the  drink ;  nor  doth  he  hold  them  that 
they  camiot  go  to  God's  service ;  nor  doth  he  force 
their  hearts  from  holy  thoughts.  It  lieth  therefore 
between  God  himself  and  the  sinner ;  one  of  them 
must  needs  be  the  principal  cause  of  all  this  misery, 
whichever  it  is,  for  there  is  no  other  to  lay  it  upon ; 
and  God  disclaimeth  it ;  he  will  not  take  it  upon  him ; 
and  the  wicked  disclaim  it  usually,  and  they  wdl  not 
take  it  upon  them,  and  this  is  the  controversy  that  is 
here  managing  in  my  text. 

The  Lord  complaineth  of  the  people ;  and  the  peo 
pie  think  it  is  the  fault  of  God.  The  same  controversy 
is  handled,  chap.  18.  25 :  they  plainly  say,  "  that  the 
way  of  the  Lord  is  not  equal."  So  here  they  say, 
verse  19,  "  If  our  transgressions  and  our  sins  be  upon 
us,  ai  id  we  pine  away  in  them,  how  shall  we  then 
hve?"  As  if  they  should  say,  if  we  must  die,  and  be 
miser  able,  how  can  we  help  it "?  as  if  it  were  not  their 
fault,  but  God's.  But  God,  in  my  text,  doth  clear 
himself  of  it,  and  telleth  them  how  they  may  help  it 
if  they  will,  and  persuadeth  them  to  use  the  means; 
and  if  they  will  not  be  persuaded,  he  lets  them  know 
that  it  is  the  fault  of  themselves ;  and  if  this  will  not 
satisfy  them,  he  wil'.  not  forbear  to  punish  them.  It  is 
he  that  will  be  the  Judge,  and  he  will  judge  them 
according  to  their  ways;   they  are  no  judge  of  him 


Doct.  1.  THE    UNCONVERTED.  33 

or  of  tliemselves,  as  wanting  autliority,  and  wisdom, 
and  impartiality ;  nor  is  it  the  cavilling  and  quarrelling 
with  God  that  shall  serve  their  turn,  or  save  them 
from  the  execution  of  justice,  at  which  they  murmur. 

The  words  of  this  verse  contain,  1.  God's  purgation 
or  clearing  himself  from  the  blame  of  tlieir  destruction. 
This  he  doth  not  by  disowning  his  law,  that  the 
wicked  shall  die,  nor  by  disowning  his  judgments  and 
execution  according  to  that  law,  or  giving  them  any 
hope  that  the  law  shall  not  be  executed ;  but  by  pro- 
fessing that  it  is  not  their  death  that  he  takes  pleasure 
in,  but  their  returning  rather,  that  they  may  live ;  and 
this  he  confirmeth  to  them  by  his  oath.  2.  An  ex- 
press exhortation  to  the  wicked  to  return;  wherein 
God  doth  not  only  command,  but  persuade  and  con- 
descend also  to  reason  the  case  with  them.  Why  will 
they  die  ?  The  direct  end  of  this  exhortation  is,  that 
they  may  turn  and  hve.  The  secondary  or  reserved 
ends,  upon  supposition  that  this  is  not  attained,  are 
these  two :  First,  To  convince  them  by  the  means 
which  he  used,  that  it  is  not  the  fault  of  God  if  they 
be  miserable.  Secondly,  To  convince  them  from 
their  manifest  wilfulness  in  rejecting  all  his  commands 
and  persuasions,  that  it  is  the  fault  of  themselves,  and 
they  die,  even  because  they  will  die. 

The  substance  of  the  text  doth  lie  in  these  observa- 
tions following : — 

Doctrine  1.  It  is  the  unchangeable  law  of  God,  that 
wicked  men  must  turn  or  die. 

Doctrine  2.  It  is  the  promise  of  God,  that  the  wicked 
shall  live,  if  they  will  but  turn. 

Doctrine  3.  God  takes  pleasure  in  men's  conversion 
and  salvation,  but  not  in  their  death  or  damnation :  he 


34  A    CALL   TO  Doct.  1 

had  rather  they  would  return  and  hve,  than  go  on 
and  die. 

Doctrine  4.  This  is  a  most  certain  truth,  which 
because  God  would  not  have  men  to  question,  he  hath 
confirmed  it  to  them  solemnly  by  his  oath. 

Doctrine  5.  The  Lord  doth  redouble  his  commands 
and  persuasions  to  the  wicked  to  turn. 

Doctrine  6.  The  Lord  condescendeth  to  reason  the 
case  with  them ;  and  asketh  the  wicked  why  they 
will  die? 

Doctrine  7.  If  after  all  this  the  wicked  will  not  turn, 
it  is  not  the  fault  of  God  that  they  perish,  but  of  them- 
selves; their  own  wilfulness  is  the  cause  of  their 
own  damnation ;  they  therefore  die  because  they 
will  die. 

Having  laid  the  text  open  in  these  propositions,  I 
shall  next  speak  somewhat  of  each  of  them  in  order, 
though  briefly. 

DOCTRINE  L 

It  is  the  unchangeahle  law  of  God,  that  icickcd 
men  must  tuim,  or  die. 

If  you  will  believe  God,  believe  this:  there  is  but 
one  of  these  two  ways  for  every  wicked  man,  either 
conversion  or  damnation.  I  know  the  wicked  will 
hardly  be  persuaded  either  of  the  truth  or  equity  of 
this.  No  wonder  if  the  guilty  quarrel  with  the  law. 
Few  men  are  apt  to  believe  that  which  they  would 
not  have  to  be  true,  and  fewer  wuuld  have  that  to  be 
true  which  they  apprehended  to  be  against  them.  But 
it  is  not  quarrelling  with  the  law,  or  with  the  judge, 
that  will  save  the  malefactor.  Believing  and  regard- 
ing the  law,  might  have  prevented  his  deatli ;  but 
denying  and  accusing  it  will  but  hasten  it.   If  it  were 


Ooct.  1.  THt   UNCONVERTED.  35 

not  SO,  a  hundred  would  bring  their  reason  against  the 
law,  for  one  that  would  bring  his  reason  to  the  law. 
and  men  would  rather  choose  to  give  their  reasons 
why  they  should  not  be  punished,  than  to  hear  the 
commands  and  reasons  of  their  governors  which  re- 
quire them  to  obey.  The  law  was  not  made  for  you  to 
judge,  but  that  you  might  be  ruled  and  judged  by  it. 
But  if  there  be  any  so  blind  as  to  venture  to  ques- 
tion either  the  truth  or  the  justice  of" this  law  of  God. 
I  shall  briefly  give  you  that  evidence  of  both  which 
methinksj  should  satisfy  a  reasonable  man. 

And  first,  if  you  doubt  whether  this  be  the  word  of 
God,  or  not,  besides  a  hundred  other  texts,  you  may 
be  satisfied  by  these  few:— Matt.  18:  3.  "Verily  I 
say  unto  you,  except  ye  be  converted  and  become  as 
little  children,  ye  cannot  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
God."  John  3:3.  "  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you, 
except  a  man  be  born  again  he  cannot  see  the  king- 
dom of  God."  2  Cor.  5:  17.  "  If  any  man  be  in  Christ, 
he  is  a  new  creature ;  old  things  are  passed  av/ay ; 
behold,  all  things  are  become  new."  Col.  3:  9,  10. 
"  Ye  have  put  off  the  old  man  with  his  deeds,  and 
have  put  on  the  new  man,  which  is  renewed  in  know- 
ledge after  the  image  of  him  tha:  created  him."  Heb. 
12 :  14.  "  Without  holiness  no  man  shall  see  the 
Lord."  Rom.  8:  8,  9.  "So  then  they  that  are  in  the 
flesh  cannot  please  God.  Now  if  any  man  have  not  the 
spirit  of  Christ,  he  is  none  of  his."  Gal.  6:  15.  "  For 
in  Christ  Jesus  neither  circumcision  availeth  any 
thing,  nor  uncircumcision,  but  a  new  creature."  1  Pet. 
1:3."  According  to  his  abundant  grace  he  hath  be- 
gotten us  to  a  lively  hope."  Ver.  23.  "  Being  born 
again,  not  of  corruptible  seed,  but  of  incorruptible,  by 
the  word  of  God.  which  livetli  and  abideth  for  ever." 


36  A   CALL  TO  Doct.  !. 

1  Pet.  2:  Ij  2.  "Wherefore  laying  aside  all  malice, 
and  all  guile,  and  hypocrisies,  and  envies,  and  evil 
speaking,  as  new  born  babes,  desire  the  sincere  milk 
of  the  word,  that  ye  may  grow  thereby."  Psalm  9 : 
17.  "  The  wicked  shall  be  turned  into  hell,  and  all  the 
nations  that  forget  God."  Psalm  11:  4.  "And  the 
Lord  loveth  the  righteous,  but  the  wicked  liis  soul 
hateth." 

As  I  need  not  stay  to  open  these  texts  which  are 
60  plain,  so  I  think  I  need  not  add  any  more  of  that 
multitude  which  i?peak  the  like.  If  thou  be  a  man 
that  dost  believe  the  word  of  God,  here  is  already 
enough  to  satisfy  thee  that  the  wicked  must  be  con 
verted  or  condemned.  You  are  already  brought  so 
far,  that  you  must  either  confess  that  this  is  true,  or 
say  plainly,  you  will  not  beheve  the  word  of  God. 
And  if  once  you  be  come  to  that  pass,  there  is  but 
small  hopes  of  you :  look  to  yourself  as  well  as  you 
can,  for  it  is  like  you  will  not  be  long  out  of  hell.  You 
would  be  ready  to  fly  in  the  face  of  him  that  should 
give  you  the  lie ;  and  yet  dare  you  give  the  he  to 
God  ?  But  if  you  tell  God  plainly  you  will  not  believe 
him,  blame  him  not  if  he  never  warn  you  more,  or  if 
he  forsake  you,  and  give  you  up  as  hopeless ;  for  to 
what  purpose  should  he  warn  j-ou,  if  you  will  not  be- 
lieve liim  ?  Should  he  send  an  angel  from  heaven  to 
you,  it  seems  you  would  not  believe.  For  an  angel 
can  speak  but  the  word  of  God ;  and  if  an  angel  should 
bring  you  any  other  gospel,  you  are  not  to  receive  it, 
but  to  hold  him  accursed.  Gal.  1 :  8.  And  surely  there 
is  no  angel  to  be  believed  before  the  Son  of  God,  who 
came  from  the  Father  to  bring  us  this  doctrine.  If  He 
be  not  to  be  believed,  then  all  the  angels  in  heaven 
are  not  to  he  believed.     And  if  you  stand  on  these 


i)oct.  1.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  37 

terms  with  God,  I  shall  leave  you  till  he  deal  with  you 
in  a  more  convincing  way.  God  hath  a  voice  that 
will  make  you  hear.  Though  he  entreat  you  to  hear 
the  voice  of  his  gospel,  he  will  make  you  hear  the 
voice  of  his  condemning  sentence,  without  entreaty. 
We  cannot  make  you  believe  against  your  wills ;  but 
God  will  make  you  feel  against  your  wills. 

But  let  us  hear  what  reason  you  have  why  you  will 
not  believe  this  word  of  God,  which  tells  us  that  the 
wicked  must  be  converted,  or  condemned.  I  know 
your  reason ;  it  is  because  that  you  judge  it  unlikely 
that  God  should  be  so  immerciful :  you  think  it  cruelty 
to  damn  men  everlastingly  for  so  small  a  thing  as  a 
sinful  life.  And  this  leads  us  to  the  second  thing, 
which  is  to  justify  the  equity  of  God  in  liis  laws  and 
judgments. 

And  first,  I  think  you  will  not  deny  that  it  is  most 
suitable  to  an  immortal  soul  to  be  ruled  by  laws  that 
promise  an  immortal  reward,  and  threaten  an  endless 
punishment.  Otherwise  the  law  should  not  be  suited 
to  the  nature  of  the  subject,  who  will  not  be  fully 
ruled  by  any  lower  means  than  the  hopes  or  fears  of 
everlasting  things :  as  it  is  in  cases  of  temporal  pun- 
isliment,  if  a  law  were  now  made  that  the  most  hei- 
nous crimes  shall  be  punished  witi:  a  hundred  years' 
captivity,  this  might  be  of  some  efficacy,  as  being 
equal  to  our  lives.  But,  if  there  had  been  no  other 
penalties  before  the  flood,  when  men  lived  eight  or 
nine  hundred  years,  it  would  not  have  been  sufficient, 
because  men  would  know  that  they  iiiight  have  so 
many  hundred  years  impunity  afterward.  So  it  is 
in  our  present  case. 

2.  1  suppose  that  you  will  confess,  that  Ih?  p^omisp 
of  an  endless  and  inconceivable  glorv  is  not  so  unsuit- 
4 


ahlo  to  tho  wijaiKMU  iM'  invK  or  tho  cnsn^  of  man:  juvi 
why  tht  n  slnniUl  \-vxi  ihm  think  i*^  of  tlio  thn\\t04\it\^ 

Jk  WlxM)  vvMi  ftihl  it  in  tlv  >nTi!  ot'  G\\^  that  »>  i( 
is«  and  «■»  It  will  U\  vl^  jt  thn\k  ytMiTvrl\Tt^  ttt  h>  v\mi- 
tmdiot  tht^  >\>>r\i  •  Will  mi  i\Ol  your  Mak^r  to  \\w 
Ivvr.  :iu<\  o\;vjnino  l\is  wv>T\i  ii|vmi  tln^  iicciissMtii'ni  ol 
ti^ljat  l^xx^  '  Will  VvHi  sit  ujxvi  hin\  and  jiuijjt^  him  by 
tho  1;UY  c<  \-o\)r  oonorits  •  Aro  \-imi  wi^T,  jwv'.  KMtor, 
aivl  niv>n'  ruthtiviij^  than  ho  r"  Miist  tho  (.nxi  ot'hoaw.n 
oouio  to  ssi-lux-J  to  vAMi  to  kwHi  wiA^oui  •'  Miist  luttnito 
Wi!Si^v>n\  loan\  ^M'  tolly,  and  lti(unt<»  inxxino^j  l>o  oi>r- 
nvtod  by  a  sinnor  that  oat\nt>t  kot  i^  >  -wv  If  an  hiMir 
oloan?    Must  tho  Ahnijjhty  st;  Ivvr  tM' a 

>vonn  ?  O  homd  am'^aiicy  ot'  .-^  ..j-i  c  -^  viiist !  slvUl 
owr  uv^lo,  or  cUxi.  vnf  dvnxjrhill.  nocifeat^  tho  s\ni  ol\^ark- 
iwsS)  Mid  imdeitsUcc  to  ilhin\iiv\t<»  tix*  worUl  ?'  Whcix^ 
imift  yom  ^PcIiW  th»  Alnnji^ity  n>;¥t^o  tho  law-s,  that 
1m  ^  liol  caU  >>mi  to  his  iXMin^^  ?  SimMv  ho  mado 
them  beftwip  \-o\i  wrn^  Kvrti,  withixtt  di>sirinjr  ux»r 
advico ;  and  yon  oatno  inK>  tho  \wrld  ny>  lati"  n>  ns 
>Trs<^  thonv  if  Nvii  ivxdi^  haw  dono  a>  ifroat  a  Avi^rk. 
Yon  s)>i\iki  haw  siop^xx^  init  ot^^^>n^  ixMhnuntcs:  ninl 
haw  c\-HMn\dicti\i  Christ  \vhn\  N^  a>-;vs  c«i  oatlh.  or 
Mv>j5rs  Ivfort^  him.  or  haw  s:\nxi  Adam  atnl  his  siiitxtl 
}>t\>jr[in-  tRvn  tho  thixvxto.iHvl  doatli,  that  »>  tlwre 
mijji^t  haw  N.vn  ih-*  iHwi  I'rt'  Ohrw*,  Aod  \v*>at  if 
Oivi  \rit.hdn\>T  his  }v\tioi>ot^  and  siK^mru?  jx'Aw^.atKi 
l«  yi>n  dn"^>  into  hc\\  whilo  \\xt  arc  quarrvlliuj:  with 
htJi  w-OT\^.  >x-iU  \-t\i  thon  K^liow  that  thon^  is  a  hell  ? 

4.  lt's)n  be  snoh  at\  o\-il  that  it  nx^ninMh  tho  death 
<vl"  Ohnst  Kv  its  o\pi;\thM\.  iv'*  wvMHior  it'  it  desNA^e  our 
e\x>rl;isui\jj  miA^rv. 


Uoct.  1.  THE    UNCONVERTED.  39 

5.  Anil  ifthf;  win  ol' the.  dcv'iU  dcBcrvcd  an  endleas 
tonricrit,  why  not  alno  tho  niri  of  rnan  ? 

6.  And  rnethinkH  you  whould  pcrc^^ivc  thai  it  ig  not 
fXJHHJhle  for  the  UjHt  of"  men,  much  Ichh  for  the  wicked, 
to  be  competent  Judgert  of  tfje  deHert of  Hin.  Alaw !  we 
are  both  blind  and  partial.  You  can  never  know  fully 
the  deMjrt  of  Hin,  till  you  fully  know  the  evil  of  Bin; 
Ufjd  you  can  never  fully  know  the  evil  of  Kin,  till  you 
fully  know,  1.  The  excellency  of  the  houI  wWch  it 
deformeth.  2.  And  the  excfdlency  ofliolineaH  which 
it  obliterrUea.  3.  The  re;x«on  and  excellency  of  the 
law  which  it  violates.  4.  The  excellency  of  the 
glory  which  it  deHfjiHCH.  5.  The  excellency  and  of- 
fice of  reawon  which  it  treadcth  down.  0.  No,  nor  till 
you  know  the  infinite  excellency,  almightineaB  and 
holineBH  of  that  God  againHt  whom  it  ih  committed. 
When  you  fully  know  all  the^e,  you  whall  fully  know 
the  dcHcrt  of  gin  benideH.  You  know  that  the  offender 
iH  too  partial  to  judge  the  law,  or  the  proceeding  of 
his  judge.  We  judge  by  feeling  which  biindy  our 
reason.  We  see,  in  common  worldly  things,  that  mcwt 
men  think  the  cause  in  right  which  is  their  own,  and 
that  all  is  wrong  that  is  done  against  them ;  and  let 
the  most  wise  or  just  impartial  friends  persuade  them 
to  the  contrary,  and  it  is  all  in  vain.  There  are  few 
children  but  think  the  father  is  unmerciful,  or  dealeth 
hardly  with  them  if  he  whip  them.  There  is  Hr;arce 
the  vilest  wretch  but  thinketh  the  church  doth  wrong 
him  if  they  excomrnunicaUi  him  :  or  w;arce  a  thief  or 
murderer  that  is  hanged,  but  would  accuse  the  law 
and  judge  of  cruelty,  if  that  would  serve  their  turn. 

7.  Can  you  think  that  an  unholy  soul  is  fit  for 
heaven?  Ahis,  they  cannot  love  God  here,  nor  do  him 
any  service  which  he  can  accept.  They  are  contrary 


40  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  1. 

to  God;  they  loathe  that  which  he  most  loveth,  and 
love  that  which  he  abhorreth.  They  are  incapable 
of  that  imperfect  communion  with  Him  which  hia 
saints  here  partake  of.  How  then  can  they  live  in 
that  perfect  love  of  him,  and  full  delight  and  com- 
munion with  him,  which  is  the  blessedness  of  heaven? 
You  do  not  accuse  yourselves  of  immercifulness,  if 
you  make  not  your  enemy  your  bosom  counsellor ;  or 
if  you  take  not  your  swine  to  bed  and  board  with  you : 
no,  nor  if  you  take  away  his  life  though  he  never  sin- 
ned ;  and  yet  you  will  blame  the  absolute  Lord,  the 
most  wise  and  gracious  Sovereign  of  the  world,  if  he 
condemn  the  unconverted  to  perpetual  misery. 

Use. — I  beseech  you  now,  all  that  love  your  souls, 
that,  instead  of  quarrelling  with  God  and  witli  his 
word,  you  will  presently  receive  it,  and  use  it  for  your 
good.  All  you  that  are  yet  unconverted,  take  this  as  the 
undoubted  truth  of  God : — You  must,  ere  long,  be  con- 
verted or  condemned ;  there  is  no  other  way  but  to 
turn,  or  die.  When  God,  that  cannot  lie,  hath  told 
you  this;  w^hen  you  hear  it  from  the  Maker  and 
Judge  of  the  world,  it  is  time  for  him  that  hath  ears, 
to  hear.  By  this  time  you  may  see  what  you  liave 
to  trust  to.  You  are  but  dead  and  damned  men,  ex- 
cept you  will  be  converted.  Should  I  tell  you  other- 
wise, I  should  deceive  you  with  a  lie.  Should  I  hide 
this  from  you,  I  should  undo  you,  and  be  guilty  of  your 
blood,  as  the  verses  before  my  text  assure  me. — Verse 
8.  "  When  I  say  to  the  wicked  man,  O  wicked  man, 
thou  shalt  surely  die  ;  if  thou  dost  not  speak  to  warn 
the  wicked  from  his  way,  that  Avicked  man  shall  die  in 
his  iniquity;  but  his  blood  will  I  require  at  thine 
hand."  You  see  then,  though  this  be  a  rough  and 
unwelcome  doctrine,  it  is  such  as  we  must  preach,  and 


Doct.  1.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  41 

you  must  hear.  It  is  easier  to  hear  of  hell  than  feel 
it.  If  your  necessities  did  not  require  it,  we  would 
not  gall  your  tender  ears  with  truths  that  seem  so 
harsh  and  grievous.  Hell  would  not  be  so  full,  if  peo- 
ple were  but  willing  to  know  their  case,  and  to  hear 
and  think  of  it.  The  reason  why  so  few  escape  it,  is 
because  they  strive  not  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate  of 
conversion,  and  go  the  narrow  way  of  hoUness,  while 
they  have  time :  and  they  strive  not,  because  they  are 
not  awakened  to  a  lively  feeling  of  the  danger  they 
are  in ;  and  they  are  not  awakened  because  they  are 
loth  to  hear  or  think  of  it :  and  that  is  partly  through 
foolish  tenderness  and  carnal  self-love,  and  partly  be- 
cause they  do  not  well  believe  the  word  that  threat- 
eneth  it.  If  you  will  not  thoroughly  believe  this  truth, 
methinks  the  weight  of  it  should  force  you  to  remem- 
ber it,  and  it  should  follow  you,  and  give  you  no  rest 
till  you  are  converted.  If  you  had  bet  once  heard 
this  word  by  the  voice  of  an  angel,  "  Thou  must  be 
converted,  or  condemned :  turn,  or  die :"  would  it  not 
stick  in  your  mind,  and  haunt  you  night  and  day  ?  so 
that  in  your  sinning  you  would  remember  it,  as  if  the 
voice  were  still  in  your  ears,  "  Turn,  or  die !"  O  hap- 
py were  your  soul  if  it  might  thus  work  with  you  and 
never  be  forgotten,  or  let  you  alone  till  it  have  driven 
home  your  heart  to  God.  But  if  you  will  cast  it  out 
by  forgetfulness  or  unbelief,  how  can  it  work  to  your 
conversion  and  salvation  ?  But  take  this  with  you  to 
your  sorrow,  though  you  may  put  this  out  of  your 
mind,  you  cannot  put  it  out  of  the  Bible,  but  there 
it  will  stand  as  a  sealed  truth,  wliich  you  shall  expe- 
rimentally know  for  ever,  that  there  is  no  other  way 
but,  "  turn,  or  die." 
O  what  is  the  matter  then  that  the  hearts  of  ain- 


42  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  I 

ners  are  not  pierced  with  suck  a  weiglity  truth  ?  A 
man  would  think  now,  that  every  unconverted  soul 
that  hears  these  words  should  be  pricked  to  the  hearty 
and  think  with  himself,  '  This  is  my  own  case,'  and 
never  be  quiet  till  he  found  himself  converted.  Believe 
it,  this  drowsy  careless  temper  will  not  last  long.  Con- 
version and  condemnation  are  both  of  them  awaken- 
ing things,  and  one  of  them  will  make  you  feel  ere 
long.  I  can  foretell  it  as  truly  as  if  I  saw  it  with  my 
eyes,  that  either  grace  or  hell  will  shortly  bring  these 
matters  to  the  quick,  and  make  you  say,  "  What  have 
I  done?  what  a  foolish  wicked  course  have  I  taken?" 
The  scornful  and  the  stupid  state  of  sinners  will  last 
but  a  little  while :  as  soon  as  they  either  turn  or  die, 
the  presumptuous  dream  will  be  at  an  end,  and  then 
their  wits  and  feeling  will  return. 

But  I  foresee  there  are  two  things  that  are  likely  to 
harden  the  unconverted,  and  make  me  lose  all  my 
labor,  except  they  can  be  taken  out  of  the  way ;  and 
that  is  the  misunderstanding  on  those  two  words,  the 
wicked  and  Uirn.  Some  will  think  to  themselves, 
'  It  is  true,  the  wicked  must  turn  or  die ;  but  what  is 
that  to  me,  I  am  not  wicked ;  though  I  am  a  sinner, 
all  men  are.'  Others  will  think,  '  It  is  true  that  we 
must  turn  from  our  evil  ways,  but  I  am  turned  long 
ago ;  I  hope  this  is  not  now  to  do.'  And  thus  while 
wicked  men  think  they  are  not  wicked,  but  are  al- 
ready converted,  we  lose  all  our  labor  in  persuading 
them  to  turn.  I  shall  therefore,  before  I  go  any  fur- 
ther, tell  you  here  who  are  meant  by  the  wicked  j 
and  who  they  are  that  must  turn  or  die ;  and  also 
what  is  meant  by  turning,  and  who  they  are  that  are 
truly  converted.  And  this  I  have  purposely  reserved 
for  this  place,  preferring  the  method  that  fits  my  end. 


Doct.  1.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  43 

And  here  you  may  obser/e,  that  in  the  sense  of  the 
text,  a  wicked  man  and  a  converted  man  are  contra- 
ries. No  man  is  a  wicked  man  that  is  converted ;  and 
no  man  is  a  converted  man  that  is  wicked ;  so  that  to 
be  a  wicked  man  and  to  be  an  unconverted  man,  ia 
all  one ;  and  therefore  in  opening  one,  we  shall  open 
both. 

Before  I  can  tell  you  what  either  wickedness  or  con- 
version is,  I  must  go  to  the  bottom,  and  fetch  up  the 
matter  from  the  beginning. 

It  pleased  the  great  Creator  of  the  world  to  make 
three  sorts  of  living  creatures.  Angels  he  made  pure 
spirits  without  flesh,  and  therefore  he  made  them  only 
for  heaven,  and  not  to  dwell  on  earth.  Brutes  were 
made  flesh,  without  immortal  souls,  and  therefore 
they  were  made  only  for  earth,  and  not  for  heaven. 
Man  is  of  a  middle  nature,  between  both,  as  partak- 
ing of  both  flesh  and  spirit,  and  therefore  he  was  made 
both  for  heaven  and  earth.  But  as  liis  flesh  is  made 
to  be  but  a  servant  to  his  spirit,  so  is  he  made  for  earth 
but  as  his  passage  or  way  to  heaven,  and  not  that  this 
should  be  his  home  or  happiness.  The  blessed  state 
that  man  wels  made  for,  was  to  behold  the  glorious 
majesty  of  the  Lord,  and  to  praise  him  among  his 
Holy  Angels,  and  to  love  him,  and  to  be  filled  with 
his  love  for  ever.  And  as  this  was  the  end  that  man 
was  made  for,  so  God  did  give  him  means  that  were 
fitted  to  the  attaining  of  it.  These  means  were  prin- 
cipally two :  First,  the  right  inclination  and  disposi- 
tion of  the  mind  of  man.  Secondly,  The  right  order 
ing  of  his  life  and  practice.  For  the  first,  God  suited 
the  disposition  of  man  unto  his  end,  giving  him  such 
knowledge  of  God  as  was  fit  for  his  present  state,  and 
a  heart  disposed  and  inclined  to  God  in  holy  love.  But 


44  A  CALL   TO  Doct.  1. 

yet  he  did  not  fix  or  confirm  him  in  this  condition,  but, 
having  made  him  a  free  agent,  he  left  him  in  the 
hands  of  his  own  free  will.  For  the  second,  God  did 
that  which  belonged  to  him ;  that  is,  he  gave  him  a 
perfect  law,  required  him  to  continue  in  the  love  of 
God,  and  perfectly  to  obey  him.  By  the  wilful  breach 
of  this  law,  man  did  not  only  forfeit  his  hopes  of  ever- 
lasting life,  but  also  turned  his  heart  from  God,  and 
fixed  it  on  these  lower  fleshly  things,  and  hereby  blot- 
ted out  the  spiritual  image  of  God  from  his  soul ;  so 
that  man  did  both  fall  short  of  the  glory  of  God,  which 
was  his  end,  and  put  himself  out  of  the  way  by  which 
he  should  have  attained  it,  and  this  both  as  to  the 
frame  of  his  heart,  and  of  his  life.  The  holy  inclina- 
tion and  love  of  his  soul  to  God,  he  lost,  and  instead 
of  it  he  contracted  an  inclination  and  love  to  the  plea- 
sing of  his  flesh,  or  carnal  self,  by  earthly  things ; 
growing  strange  to  God  and  acquainted  with  the 
creature.  And  the  course  of  this  life  was  suited  to 
the  bent  and  inclination  of  his  heart ;  he  lived  to  his 
carnal  self,  and  not  to  God ;  he  sought  the  creature, 
for  the  pleasing  of  his  flesh,  instead  of  seeking  to  please 
the  Lord.  With  this  nature  or  corrupt  inclination, 
we  are  all  now  born  mto  tiie  world ;  "  for  who  can 
bring  a  clean  thing  out  of  an  unclean  ?"  Job,  14  :  4. 
As  a  lion  hath  a  fierce  and  cruel  nature  before  he  doth 
devour;  and  an  adder  hath  a  venomous  nature  before 
she  sting,  so  in  our  infancy  we  have  those  sinful  na- 
tures or  inclinations,  before  we  think,  or  speak,  or  do 
amiss.  And  hence  springeth  all  the  sin  of  our  lives ; 
and  not  only  so,  but  when  God  hath,  of  his  mercy,  pro- 
vided us  a  remedy,  even  the  Lord  Jesus  Clirist,  to  be 
the  Savior  of  our  souls,  and  bring  us  back  to  God 
again,  wc  naturally  love  our  present  state,  and  are 


Docl.  1.  THE    UNCONVERTED.  45 

loth  to  be  brought  out  of  it,  and  therefore  are  set 
against  the  means  of  our  recovery :  and  though  cus- 
tom hath  taught  us  to  thank  Christ  for  his  good-will, 
yet  carnal  self  persuades  us  to  refuse  his  remedies,  and 
to  desire  to  be  excused  when  we  are  commanded  to 
take  the  medicines  which  he  offers,  and  are  called  to 
forsake  all  and  follow  him  to  God  and  glory. 

I  pray  you  read  over  tliis  leaf  again,  and  mark  it ; 
for  in  these  few  words  you  have  a  true  description  of 
our  natural  state,  and  consequently  of  wicked  man ; 
for  every  man  that  is  in  the  state  of  corrupted  nature 
is  a  wicked  man,  and  in  a  state  of  death. 

By  this  also  you  are  prepared  to  understand  what 
it  is  to  be  converted :  to  which  end  you  must  further 
know,  that  the  mercy  of  God,  not  willing  that  man 
should  perish  in  his  sin,  provided  a  remedy,  by  caus- 
ing his  Son  to  take  our  nature,  and  being,  in  one  per- 
son, God  and  man,  to  become  a  mediator  between 
God  and  man ;  and  by  dying  for  our  sins  on  the  cross, 
to  ransom  us  from  the  curse  of  God  and  the  power  of 
the  devil.  And  having  thus  redeemed  us,  the  Father 
hath  delivered  us  into  his  hands  as  his  own.  Here- 
upon the  Father  and  the  Mediator  do  make  a  new 
law  and  covenant  for  man,  not  like  the  first,  which 
gave  life  to  none  but  tlie  perfectly  obedient,  and  con- 
demned man  for  every  sin ;  but  Christ  hath  made  a 
law  of  grace,  or  a  promise  of  pardon  and  everlasting 
life  to  all  that,  by  true  repentance,  and  by  faith  m 
Christ,  are  converted  unto  God  ;  like  an  act  of  oblivion, 
wliich  is  made  by  a  prince  to  a  company  of  rebels,  on 
condition  they  will  lay  down  their  arms  and  come  in 
and  be  loyal  subjects  for  the  time  to  come. 

But,  because  the  Lord  knoweth  that  the  heart  of 
man  is  grown  so  wicked,  that,  for  all  this,  men  will 


46  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  1 

not  accept  of  the  remedy  if  iliey  be  left  to  themselvep, 
theretbre  the  Hoi}''  Gliost  hatli  undertaken  it  as  liia 
office  to  inspire  the  Ajx)stles,  and  seal  the  Scriptures 
by  miracles  and  wonders,  and  to  illuminate  and  con- 
vert the  souls  of  the  elect. 

So  by  this  much  you  see,  that  as  there  are  three 
persons  in  the  Trinity,  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the 
Holy  Ghost,  so  each  of  these  persons  have  their  several 
works,  Avhich  are  eminently  ascribed  to  them. 

The  Father's  works  were,  to  create  us,  to  rule  us, 
as  his  rational  creatures,  by  the  law  of  nature,  and 
judge  us  thereby ;  and  in  mercy  to  provide  us  a  Re- 
deemer when  we  were  lost ;  and  to  send  his  Son,  and 
accept  his  ransom. 

The  works  of  the  Son  for  us  were  these :  to  ransom 
and  redeem  us  by  his  suffering  and  righteousness ;  to 
give  out  the  promise  or  law  of  grace,  and  rule  and 
judge  the  world  as  their  Redeemer,  on  terms  of  grace : 
and  to  make  intercession  for  us,  that  the  benefits  of  his 
death  may  be  communicated ;  and  to  send  the  Holy 
Ghost,  which  the  Father  also  doth  by  the  Son. 

The  works  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  for  us,  are  these :  to 
mdite  the  Holy  Scriptures,  by  inspiring  and  guiding 
the  Apostles,  and  sealing  the  word,  by  his  miraculous 
gifts  and  works,  and  the  illuminating  and  exciting  the 
ordinary  ministers  of  the  gospel,  and  so  enabling  them 
and  helping  them  to  publish  that  word ;  and  by  the 
same  word  illuminating  and  converting  the  souls  of 
men.  So  that  as  you  could  not  have  been  reasonable 
creatures,  if  the  Father  had  not  created  you,  nor  have 
had  any  access  to  God,  if  the  Son  had  not  died,  so 
neither  can  you  have  a  part  in  Christ,  or  be  saved, 
except  the  Holy  Ghost  do  sanctify  you. 

So  that  by  this  time  you  may  see  the  several  causes 


Doct.  1.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  47 

of  this  woi-k.  The  Father  sendeth  the  Son :  the  Son 
redeemeth  us  and  maketh  the  promise  of  grace :  the 
Holy  Ghost  inditeth  and  sealeth  this  Gospel:  the 
Apostles  are  the  secretaries  of  the  Spirit  to  write  it : 
the  preachers  of  the  Gospel  to  proclaim  it,  and  per- 
suade men  to  open  it :  and  the  Holy  Ghost  doth  make 
their  preaching  effectual,  by  opening  the  hearts  of 
men  to  entertain  it.  And  all  this  to  repair  the  image 
of  God  upon  the  soul,  and  to  set  the  heart  upon  God 
again,  and  take  it  off  the  creature  and  carnal  self  to 
which  it  is  revolted,  and  so  to  turn  the  current  of  the 
life  into  a  heavenly  course,  which  before  was  earthly ; 
and  through  this,  embracing  Christ  by  faith,  who  is 
the  Physician  of  the  soul. 

By  what  I  have  said,  you  may  see  what  it  is  to  be 
wicked,  and  what  it  is  to  be  converted ;  which,  I  think, 
will  yet  be  plainer  to  you,  if  1  describe  them  as  con- 
sisting of  their  several  parts.  And  for  the  first,  a  wicked 
man  may  be  known  by  these  three  things : 

First,  He  is  one  who  placeth  his  chief  affections  on 
earth,  and  loveth  the  creature  more  than  God,  and 
his  fleshly  prosperity  above  the  heavenly  felicity.  He 
savoreth  the  things  of  the  flesh,  but  neither  discern 
eth  nor  savoreth  the  things  of  the  Spirit ;  though  he 
wfil  say,  that  heaven  is  better  than  earth,  yet  he  doth 
not  really  so  esteem  it  to  himself.  If  he  might  be  sure 
of  earth,  he  would  let  go  heaven,  and  had  rather  stay 
here  than  be  removed  thither.  A  life  of  perfect  holi- 
ness in  the  sight  of  God,  and  in  his  love  and  praises 
for  ever  in  heaven,  doth  not  find  such  liking  with  his 
heart  as  a  life  of  health,  and  wealth,  and  honor  here 
upon  earth.  And  though  he  falsely  profess  that  he 
loves  God  above  all,  yet  indeed  he  never  felt  the  power 
of  divine  love  within  him,  but  his  mind  is  more  set  on 


48  A   CALL   I'D  Docl.  1 

word  or  fleshly  pleasures  than  on  God.  In  a  word, 
whoever  loves  earth  above  heaven,  and  fleshly  pros- 
perity more  than  God,  is  a  wicked  unconverted  man. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  converted  man  is  illuminated 
to  discern  the  loveliness  of  God,  and  so  far  believeth 
the  glory  that  is  to  be  had  with  God,  that  his  heart 
is  taken  up  with  it  and  set  more  upon  it  than  any 
thing  in  this  world.  He  had  rather  see  the  face  of 
God,  and  live  in  his  everlasting  love  and  praises,  than 
have  all  the  wealth  or  pleasures  of  the  world.  He 
seeth  that  all  things  else  are  vanity,  and  nothing  but 
God  can  fill  the  soul ;  and  therefore  let  the  world  go 
which  way  it  will,  he  layeth  up  his  treasures  and 
hopes  in  heaven,  and  for  that  he  is  resolved  to  let  go 
all.  As  the  fire  doth  mount  upward,  and  the  needle 
that  is  touched  with  the  loadstone  still  turns  to  the 
north,  so  the  converted  soul  is  inclined  unto  Gfod.  No- 
thing else  can  satisfy  him :  nor  can  he  find  any  con- 
tent and  rest  but  in  his  love.  In  a  word,  all  that  are 
converted  do  esteem  and  love  God  better  than  all  the 
world,  and  the  heavenly  felicity  is  dearer  to  them 
than  their  fleshly  prosperity.  The  proof  of  what  I 
have  said  you  may  find  in  these  places  of  Scriptures : 
Phil.  3  :  18,  21.  Matt.  6  :  19,  20,  21.  Col.  3  :  I,  4. 
Rom.  8  :  5,  9,  18,  23.     Psalm  73  :  25,  26. 

Secondly,  A  wicked  man  is  one  that  makes  it  the 
principal  business  of  his  life  to  prosper  in  the  world, 
and  attain  his  fleshly  ends.  And  though  he  may  read, 
and  hear,  and  do  much  in  the  outward  duties  of  reli- 
gion, and  forbear  disgraceful  sins,  yet  this  is  all  but 
by-the-by,  and  he  never  makes  it  the  principal  busi- 
ness of  his  life  to  please  God,  and  attain  everlast- 
ing glory,  and  puts  off"  God  with  the  leavings  of  the 
world,  and  ffives  him  no  more  service  than  the  flesli 


Doct.  I.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  49* 

can  spare,  for  he  will  not  part  with  all  for  heaven. 

On  the  contrary,  a  converted  man  is  one  that  makes 
it  the  principal  care  and  business  oi'  his  life  to  please 
God,  and  to  be  saved,  and  takes  all  the  blessings  of 
this  life  but  as  accommodations  in  his  journey  toward 
another  life,  and  useth  the  creature  in  subordination 
to  God ;  he  loves  a  holy  life,  and  longs  to  be  more 
holy ;  he  hath  no  sin  but  what  he  hateth,  and  longeth, 
and  prayeth,  and  striveth  to  be  rid  of.  The  drift  and 
bent  of  his  life  is  for  God,  and  if  he  sin,  it  is  contrary 
to  the  very  bent  of  his  heart  and  life ;  and  therefore  he 
riseth  again  and  lamenteth  it,  and  dares  not  wilfully 
live  in  any  known  sin.  There  is  nothing  in  this  world 
so  dear  to  him  but  he  can.  give  it  up  to  God,  and  for- 
sake it  for  him  and  the  hopes  of  glory.  All  this  you 
may  see  in  Col  3  : 1,  5.  Matt.  6  :  20,  33.  Luke,  18  : 
22,  23,  29.  Luke,  14  :  18,  24,  26,  27.  Rom.  8  :  13. 
Gal.  5  :  24.     Luke  12  :  21,  &c. 

Thirdly,  The  soul  of  a  wicked  man  did  never  truly 
discern  and  relish  the  mystery  of  redemption,  nor 
thankfully  entertain  an  offered  Savior,  nor  is  he  taken 
up  with  the  love  of  the  Redeemer,  nor  willing  to  be 
ruled  by  him  as  the  Physician  of  his  soul,  that  he  may 
be  saved  from  the  guilt  and  power  of  his  sins,  and  re- 
covered to  God ;  but  his  heart  is  insensible  of  this  un- 
speakable benefit,  and  is  quite  against  the  healing 
means  by  which  he  should  be  recovered.  Though  he 
may  be  willing  to  be  outwardly  religious,  yet  he  never 
resigns  up  his  soul  to  Christ,  and  to  the  moti(«s  and 
conduct  of  his  word  and  Spirit. 

On  the  contrary,  the  converted  soul  having  felt 
himself  undone  by  sin,  and  perceiving  that  he  hath 
lost  liis  peace  with  God  and  hopes  of  heaven,  and  is  in 
danger  of  everlasting  misery,  doth  tliankfully  entPi*- 


50  A  CALL  TO  Doct  1 

tain  the  tidings  of  redemption,  and  believing  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  as  his  only  Savior,  resigns  himself  up  to 
him  for  wisdom,  righteousness,  sanctification,  and  re- 
demption. He  takes  Christ  as  the  life  of  his  soul,  ana 
lives  by  him,  and  uses  him  as  a  salve  for  every  sore 
admiring  the  wisdom  and  love  of  God  in  this  wonder- 
ful work  of  man's  redemption.  In  a  word,  Christ  doth 
even  dwell  in  his  heart  by  faith,  and  the  life  that  he 
now  liveth,  is  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God,  that 
loved  him,  and  gave  himself  for  him ;  yea,  it  is  not  so 
much  he  that  liveth,  as  Christ  in  him.  For  these, 
see  Job,  1  :  11,  12;  and  3  :  19,  20.  Rom.  8  :  9.  Phil. 
3  :  7,  10.  Gal.  2  :  20.  Job,  15  :  2,  3,  4.  1  Cor.  1 :  20. 
2:2. 

You  see  now,  in  plain  terms  from  the  Word  of  God, 
who  are  the  wicked  and  who  are  the  converted.  Igno- 
rant people  think,  that  if  a  man  be  no  swearer,  nor 
curser,  nor  railer,  nor  drunkard,  nor  fornicator,  nor  ex- 
tortioner, nor  wrong  any  body  in  his  dealings,  and  if 
he  come  to  church  and  say  his  prayers,  he  cannot  be 
a  wicked  man.  Or  if  a  man  that  hath  been  guilty 
of  drunkenness,  swearing,  or  gaming,  or  the  like  vices, 
do  but  forbear  them  for  the  time  to  come,  they  think 
that  this  is  a  converted  man.  Others  think  if  a  man 
that  hath  been  an  enemy,  and  scorner  at  godliness, 
do  but  approve  it,  and  be  hated  for  it  by  the  wicked, 
as  the  godly  are,  that  this  must  needs  be  a  converted 
man.  And  some  are  so  foolish  as  to  think  that  they 
are  converted  by  taking  up  some  new  opinion,  and 
falling  into  some  dividing  party.  And  some  think, 
if  they  have  but  been  affrighted  by  the  fears  of  hell, 
and  had  convictions  of  conscience,  and  thereupon 
have  purposed  and  promised  amendment,  and  take  up 
a  life  of  civil  behavior  and  outward  relij^ion,  that  thia 


Ooct.  1.  THE    UNCONVERTED.  51 

must  needs  be  true  conversion.  And  these  are  the 
poor  deluded  souls  that  are  Hke  to  lose  the  benefit  of 
all  our  persuasions;  and  when  they  hear  that  the 
wicked  must  turn  or  die,  they  think  that  this  is  not 
spoken  to  them,  for  they  are  not  wicked,  but  are  turned 
already.  And  therefore  it  is  that  Christ  told  some  oi 
the  rulers  of  the  Jews  who  were  greater  and  more 
civil  than  the  common  people,  that  "  publicans  and 
harlots  go  into  the  kingdom  of  Christ  before  them." 
Matt.  21  :  31.  Not  that  a  harlot  or  gross  sinner  can 
be  saved  without  conversion ;  but  because  it  was  easier 
to  make  these  gross  sinners  perceive  their  sin  and  mi- 
sery, and  the  necessity  of  a  change,  than  the  more 
civil  sort,  who  delude  themselves  by  thinking  that 
they  are  converted  already,  when  they  are  not. 

O  sirs,  conversion  is  another  kind  of  work  than  most 
are  aware  of.  It  is  not  a  small  matter  to  bring  an 
earthly  mind  to  heaven,  ajid  to  show  man  the  amiable 
excellence  of  God,  till  he  be  taken  up  in  such  love  to 
him  that  can  never  be  quenched ;  to  break  the  heart 
for  sin,  and  make  him  fly  for  refuge  to  Christ,  and 
thankfully  embrace  him  as  the  life  of  his  soul ;  to  have 
the  very  drift  and  bent  of  the  heart  and  life  changed ; 
so  that  a  man  renounceth  that  which  he  took  for  his 
felicity,  and  placeth  liis  felicity  where  he  never  did 
before ,  and  lives  not  to  the  same  end,  and  drives  not 
on  the  same  design  in  the  world,  as  he  formerly  did. 
In  a  word,  he  that  is  in  Christ  is  a  "  new  creature  : 
old  things  are  passed  away:  behold,  all  things  are 
become  new."  2  Cor.  5  :  17.  He  hath  a  new  under- 
standing, a  new  will  and  resolution,  new  sorrows,  and 
desires,  and  love,  and  delight;  new  thoughts,  new 
speeches,  new  company,  (if  possible,)  and  a  new  con- 
versation.  Sin,  that  before  was  a  jesting  matter  with 


52  A    CALL   TO  Doct.  1 

Jiim,  is  now  so  odious  and  terrible  to  liim  that  he  flies 
from  it  as  from  deatli.  Tiie  world,  that  was  so  lovely 
in  his  eyes,  doth  now  appear  hut  as  vanity  and  vexa- 
tion :  God,  that  was  helbre  neglected,  is  now  the  only 
happiness  of  his  soul :  before  he  was  forgotten,  and 
every  lust  preferred  before  him,  but  now  he  is  set  next 
the  heart,  and  all  things  must  give  place  to  him  ;  the 
heart  is  taken  up  in  the  attendance  and  observance 
of  him,  is  grieved  when  he  hides  his  face,  and  never 
thinlffi  itself  well  without  him.  Christ  himself,  that 
was  wont  to  be  shghtly  thought  of,  is  now  his  only 
hope  and  refuge,  and  he  lives  upon  him  as  on  liis 
daily  bread;  he  cannot  pray  without  him,  nor  rejoice 
without  him,  nor  think,  nor  speak,  nor  live  without 
him.  Heaven  itself,  that  before  was  looked  upon  but 
as  a  tolerable  resen^e,  which  he  hoped  might  serve 
his  turn  better  than  hell,  when  he  could  not  stay  any 
longer  in  the  world,  is  now  taken  for  his  home,  the 
place  of  his  only  hope  and  rest,  where  he  shall  see, 
and  love,  and  praise  that  God  that  hath  his  heart  al- 
ready. Hell,  that  did  seem  before  but  as  a  bugbear 
to  frighten  men  from  sin,  doth  nov/  appear  to  be  a  real 
misery  that  is  not  to  he  ventured  on,  nor  jested  with. 
The  works  of  holiness,  of  which  before  he  was  weary, 
and  thought  to  be  more  than  needful,  are  now  both  his 
recreation,  and  his  business,  and  the  trade  that  he  hves 
upon.  The  Bible,  which  was  before  to  him  but  almost 
as  a  common  book,  is  now  as  the  law  of  God  ;  as  a  let- 
ter written  to  him,  and  subscribed  with  the  name  of 
the  Eternal  Majesty ;  it  is  the  rule  of  his  thoughts, 
and  words,  and  deeds ;  the  commands  are  binding,  the 
threats  are  dreadful,  and  the  promises  of  it  speak  life 
to  his  soul.  The  godly,  tliat  seemed  to  him  but  like 
other  men.  are  ncv/  the  most  excellent  and  happy  on 


DocL  1.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  53 

earth.  And  the  wicked  that  were  his  playfellows  are 
now  his  grief;  and  he  that  could  laugh  at  their  sins 
is  readier  now  to  weep  for  their  sin  and  misery,  and 
to  say  with  those  of  old,  (Psalm  16  :  3 ;  15  :  4.  Phil. 
3  :  18.)  "  But  to  the  saints  that  are  in  the  earth,  and  to 
the  excellent,  in  whom  is  all  my  delight."  "  In  whose 
eyes  a  vile  person  is  contemned ;  but  he  honoreth  them 
that  fear  the  Lord :  he  that  sweareth  to  his  own  hurt, 
and  changeth  not."  "  For  many  walk,  of  whom  I 
have  told  you  often,  and  now  tell  you,  even  weeping, 
that  they  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ."  In 
short,  he  hath  a  new  end  in  his  thoughts,  and  a  new 
way  in  his  endeavors,  and  therefore  his  heart  and  life 
are  new.  Before,  his  carnal  self  was  his  end,  and  his 
pleasure  and  worldly  profits  and  credit  were  his  way ; 
and  now  God  and  everlasting  glory  are  his  end,  and 
Christ,  and  the  Spirit,  and  word,  and  ordinances.  Ho- 
liness to  God,  and  righteousness  and  mercy  to  men, 
these  are  liis  way.  Before,  self  was  the  chief  ruler, 
to  which  the  matters  of  God  and  conscience  must 
stoop  and  give  place ;  and  now  God,  in  Christ,  by  the 
Spirit,  word  and  ministry,  is  the  chief  ruler,  to  whom 
both  self  and  all  the  matters  of  self  must  give  place. 
So  that  this  is  not  a  change  in  one,  or  two,  or  twenty 
points,  but  in  the  whole  soul,  and  in  the  very  end  and 
bent  of  the  conversation.  A  man  may  step  out  of  one 
path  into  another,  and  yet  have  his  face  the  same 
way,  and  be  still  going  toward  the  same  place ;  but  it 
is  another  matter  to  turn  quite  back,  and  take  hia 
journey  quite  the  contrary  way,  to  a  contrary  place. 
So  it  is  here ;  a  man  may  turn  from  drunkenness,  and 
forsake  other  gross  disgraceful  sins,  and  set  upon  some 
duties  of  religion,  and  yet  be  still  going  to  the  same  end 
as  before,  loving  bis  carnal  self  above  all,  and  giving 


54  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  1. 

it  still  the  government  of  his  bouI  ;  but  when  he  is  con- 
verted, this  self  is  denied,  and  taken  down,  and  God  is 
set  up,  and  his  face  is  turned  the  contrary  way :  and 
he  that  before  was  addicted  to  himself,  and  lived  to 
himself,  is  now,  by  sanctification,  devoted  to  GJod,  and 
liveth  unto  God.  Belbre,  he  asked  himself  what  he 
should  do  with  his  time,  his  parte,  and  his  estate,  and 
for  himself  he  used  them ;  but  now  he  asketh  God 
what  he  shall  do  with  them,  and  useth  them  for  him. 
Before,  he  would  please  God  so  far  as  might  accord 
with  the  pleasure  of  his  flesh  and  carnal  self,  but  not 
to  any  great  displeasure  of  them  ;  but  now  he  will 
please  God,  let  flesh  and  self  be  never  so  much  dis- 
pleased. This  is  the  great  change  that  God  will  make 
upon  all  that  shall  be  saved. 

You  can  say,  that  the  Holy  Ghost  is  our  sanctifier ; 
but  do  you  know  what  sanctification  is  ?  Why,  this 
is  what  I  have  now  opened  to  you ;  and  every  man 
and  Avoman  in  the  world  must  have  this,  or  be.  f^- 
demned  to  everlasting  misery.  They  must  turn  or  die. 

Do  you  believe  all  this,  sirs,  or  do  you  not?  Surely 
you  dare  not  say  you  do  not ;  for  it  is  past  a  doubt  or 
denial.  These  are  not  controversies,  where  one  learned 
pious  man  is  of  one  mind,  and  another  of  another; 
where  one  party  saith  this,  and  the  other  saith  that. 
Every  sect  among  us  that  deserve  to  be  called  Chris- 
tians are  all  agreed  in  this  that  I  have  said ;  and  if 
you  w^ill  not  believe  the  God  of  truth,  and  that  in  a 
case  where  every  sect  and  party  do  believe  him,  you 
are  utterly  inexcusable. 

But  if  you  do  believe  this,  how  comes  it  to  pass  that 
you  live  so  quietly  in  an  unconverted  state  ?  Do  yoii 
know  that  you  are  converted  ?  and  can  you  find  this 
wonderful  change  upon  your  souk  ?    Have  you  been 


Doct.  1.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  55 

thus  born  again,  and  made  new?  Are  not  these 
strange  matters  to  many  of  you,  and  such  as  you 
never  felt  within  yourselves  ?  If  you  cannot  tell  the 
day  or  week  of  your  change,  or  the  very  sermon  that 
converted  you,  yet  do  you  find  that  the  work  is  done, 
that  such  a  change  indeed  there  is,  and  that  you  have 
such  hearts  a^  are  before  described  ?  Alas !  the  most 
do  follow  their  worldly  business,  and  little  trouble  their 
minds  with  such  thoughts.  And  if  they  be  restrained 
from  scandalous  sins,  and  can  say,  "  I  am  no  whore- 
monger, nor  thief,  nor  curser,  nor  swearer,  nor  tippler, 
nor  extortioner ;  I  go  to  church,  and  say  my  prayers ;" 
they  think  that  this  is  true  conversion,  and  they  shall 
be  saved  as  well  as  any.  Ala? !  this  is  foolish  cheat- 
ing of  yourselves.  This  is  too  much  contempt  of  an 
endless  glory,  and  too  gross  neglect  of  your  immortal 
souls.  Can  you  make  so  light  of  heaven  and  hell  ? 
Your  corpse  will  shortly  lie  in  the  dust,  and  angels  or 
devils  will  presently  seize  upon  your  souls ;  and  every 
man  or  woman  of  you  all  will  shortly  be  among  other 
company,  and  in  another  case  than  now  you  are. 
You  will  dwell  in  these  houses  but  a  httle  longer ;  you 
will  work  in  your  shops  and  fields  but  a  little  longer ; 
you  will  sit  in  these  seats  and  dwell  on  this  earth  but 
a  little  longer ;  you  will  see  with  these  eyes,  and  hear 
with  these  ears,  and  speak  with  these  tongues,  but  a 
little  longer,  till  the  resurrection-day ;  and  can  you 
make  shift  to  forget  this  ?  O  what  a  place  will  you 
shortly  be  in  of  joy  or  torment !  O  what  a  sight  will 
you  shortly  see  in  heaven  or  hell !  O  what  thouglits 
will  shortly  fill  your  hearts  with  unspeakable  delight 
or  horror !  What  work  will  you  be  employed  in !  to 
praise  the  Lord  with  saints  and  angels,  or  to  cry  out 
in  fire  unquenchable,  with  devils ;  and  should  all  tins 


56  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  1. 

be  forgotten  ?  And  all  this  will  be  endless,  and  sealed 
up  by  an  unchangeable  decree.  Eternity,  eternity 
will  be  the  measure  of  your  joys  or  sorrows :  and  can 
this  be  forgotten  ?  And  all  this  is  true,  sirs,  most  cer- 
tainly true.  When  you  have  gone  up  and  down  a 
little  longer,  and  slept  and  awaked  a  few  times  more, 
you  will  be  dead  and  gone,  and  find  all  true  that  now 
I  tell  you :  and  yet  can  you  now  so  much  foi  get  it  ? 
You  shall  then  remember  that  you  had  this  call,  and 
that,  this  day,  in  this  place,  you  were  reminded  of 
these  things,  and  perceive  them  matters  a  thousand 
times  greater  than  either  you  or  I  could  here  conceive ; 
and  yet  shall  they  be  now  so  much  forgotten  ? 

Beloved  friends,  if  the  Lord  had  not  awakened  me 
to  believe  and  to  lay  to  heart  these  things  myself,  I 
should  have  remained  in  a  dark  and  selfish  state,  and 
have  perished  for  ever ;  but  if  he  have  truly  made  me 
sensible  of  them,  it  will  constrain  me  to  compassionate 
you  as  well  as  myself  If  your  eyes  were  so  far  opened 
as  to  see  hell,  and  you  saw  your  neighbors  that  were 
unconverted  dragged  thither  with  hideous  cries: 
though  they  were  such  as  you  accounted  honest  peo- 
ple on  earth,  and  feared  no  such  danger  themselves, 
such  a  sight  would  make  you  go  home  and  think  of 
it,  and  think  again,  and  make  you  warn  all  about  you, 
as  that  lost  worldling,  Luke  16  :  28,  would  have  had 
his  brethren  warned,  lest  they  come  to  that  place  of 
torment.  Why,  faith  is  a  kind  of  sight}  it  is  the  eye 
of  the  soul,  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen.  If  1  be- 
lieve God,  it  is  next  to  seeing ;  and  therefore  I  beseech 
you  excuse  me  if  I  be  half  as  earnest  with  you  about 
these  matters  as  if  I  had  seen  them.  If  I  must  die 
to-morrow,  and  it  were  in  my  power  to  come  agam 
from  another  world,  and  tell  you  what  I  had  seen, 


Doct.  1.  THE    UNCONVERTED.  57 

Avould  you  not  be  willing  to  hear  me  ?  and  would  you 
not  believe,  and  regard  what  I  should  tell  you  ?  If  I 
might  preach  one  sermon  to  you  after  I  am  dead,  and 
have  seen  what  is  done  in  the  world  to  come,  would 
you  not  have  me  plainly  speak  the  truth,  and  would 
you  not  crowd  to  hear  me,  and  would  you  not  lay  it 
to  heart  7  But  this  must  not  be ;  God  hath  his  ap- 
pointed way  of  leaching  you  by  Scriptures  and  mi- 
nisters, and  he  will  not  humor  unbelievers  so  far  as  to 
send  men  from  the  dead  to  them,  and  alter  his  esta- 
blished way ;  if  any  man  quarrel  with  the  sun,  God 
will  not  humor  him  so  far  as  to  set  up  a  clearer  light. 
Friends,  I  beseech  you  regard  me  now  as  you  would 
do  if  I  should  come  from  the  dead  to  you ;  for  I  can 
give  you  els  full  assurance  of  the  truth  of  what  I  say 
to  you  as  if  I  had  been  there  and  seen  it  with  my 
eyes ;  for  it  is  possible  for  one  from  the  dead  to  deceive 
you;  but  Jems  Christ  can  never  deceive  you;  the 
Word  of  God  delivered  in  Scripture,  and  sealed  by 
miracles,  and  holy  workings  of  the  Spirit,  can  nnver 
deceive  you.  Believe  this  or  believe  nothing.  Be- 
heve  and  obey  this,  or  you  are  undone.  Now,  as  ever 
you  believe  the  word  of  God,  and  as  ever  you  care 
for  the  salvation  of  your  souls,  let  me  beg  of  you  this 
reasonable  request,  and  I  beseech  you  deny  me  not : 
That  you  would  now  remember  what  has  been  said, 
and  enter  into  an  earnest  search  of  your  hearts,  and 
say  to  yourselves — Is  it  so  indeed ;  must  I  turn  or  die? 
Must  I  be  converted  or  condemned  ?  It  is  time  for  me 
then  to  look  about  me  before  it  be  too  late.  O  why  did 
not  I  look  after  this  till  now  ?  Why  did  I  venturously 
put  off  or  neglect  so  great  a  business  ?  Was  I  aw^ake, 
or  in  my  wits  ?  O  blessed  God,  what  a  mercy  is  it 
that  tuou  didst  not  cut  off  my  life  all  this  while,  be- 


58  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  1, 

fore  I  had  any  certain  hope  of  eternal  life  !  Well, 
God  forbid  that  I  should  ne»;lect  tliis  work  any  longer. 
What  state  is  my  soul  in  ?  Am  I  converted,  or  am  I 
not  ?  Was  ever  such  a  cliange  or  work  done  uix)n  my 
Boul?  Have  I  been  illuminated  by  the  word  and 
Spirit  of  the  Lord  to  see  the  odiousnesa  of  sin,  the 
need  of  a  Savior,  the  love  of  Christ,  and  the  excel- 
lences of  God  and  glory  ?  la  my  heart  broken  or  hum- 
bled within  me  for  my  former  lilc  ?  Have  I  thank- 
fully entertained  my  Savior  and  Lord  that  offered 
himself  with  pardon  and  life  for  my  soul  ?  Do  I  hate 
my  former  sinful  life  and  the  remnant  of  every  sin 
that  is  in  me  ?  Do  I  fly  from  them  as  my  deadly  ene- 
mies? Do  I  give  up  myself  to  a  life  of  holiness  and 
obedience  to  God?  Do  I  love  it  and  delight  in  it? 
Can  I  truly  say  that  I  am  dead  to  the  world,  and  car- 
nal self,  and  that  I  live  for  God  and  the  glory  which 
he  hath  promised  ?  Hath  heaven  more  of  my  esti- 
mation and  resolution  than  earth?  And  is  God  the 
dearest  and  highest  in  my  soul  ?  Once,  I  am  sure,  I 
lived  principally  to  the  world  and  flesh,  and  God  had 
nothing  but  some  heartless  services,  which  the  world 
could  spare,  and  which  were  the  leavings  of  the  flesh. 
Is  my  heart  now  turned  another  way  ?  Have  I  a  new 
design  and  a  new  end,  and  a  new  train  of  holy  affec- 
tions ?  Have  I  set  my  hopes  and  heart  in  heaven  ? 
And  is  it  not  the  scope,  and  design,  and  bent  of  my 
heart,  to  get  well  to  heaven,  and  see  the  glorious  face 
of  God,  and  live  in  his  love  and  praise  ?  And  when 
I  sin,  is  it  against  the  habitual  bent  and  design  of  my 
heart?  And  do  I  conquer  all  gross  sins,  and  am  1 
■weary  and  willing  to  be  rid  of  my  infiiTnities  ?  This 
is  the  state  of  converted  souls.  And  thus  it  must  be 
with  me,  or  I  must  perish.   Is  it  thus  with  me  indeed, 


Doct  1.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  59 

or  is  it  not  ?  It  is  time  to  get  this  doubt  resolved,  be- 
fore the  dreadful  Judge  resolve  it.  I  am  not  such  a 
stranger  to  my  own  heart  and  life,  but  I  may  some- 
what perceive  whether  I  am  thus  converted  or  not :  if 
I  be  not,  it  will  do  me  no  good  to  flatter  my  soul  with 
false  conceits  and  hopes.  I  am  resolved  no  more  to 
deceive  myself,  but  endeavor  to  know  truly  whether 
I  be  converted  or  not :  that  if  I  be,  I  may  rejoice  in  it, 
and  glorify  my  gracious  Lord,  and  comfortably  go  on 
till  I  reach  the  crown :  and  if  I  am  not,  I  may  set  my- 
self to  beg  and  seek  after  the  grace  that  should  con- 
vert me,  and  may  turn  without  any  more  delay.  For, 
if  I  find  in  time  that  I  am  out  of  the  way,  by  the  help 
of  Christ  I  may  turn  and  be  recovered ;  but  if  I  stay 
till  either  my  heart  be  forsaken  of  God  in  blindness  or 
hardness,  or  till  I  be  catched  away  by  death,  it  is  then 
too  late.  There  is  no  place  for  repentance  and  con- 
version then ;  I  know  it  must  be  now  or  never. 

Sirs,  this  is  my  request  to  you,  that  you  will  but 
take  your  hearts  to  task,  and  thus  examine  them  till 
you  see,  if  it  nviy  be,  whether  you  are  converted  or 
not  ?  And  if  you  cannot  find  it  out  by  your  own  en- 
deavors, go  to  your  ministers,  if  they  be  faithful  and 
experienced  men,  and  desire  their  assistance.  The 
matter  is  great ;  let  not  bashful  ness,  nor  carelessness 
iiindcr  you.  They  are  set  over  you,  to  advise  you,  for 
the  saving  of  your  soul,  as  physicians  advise  you  for 
the  curing  of  your  bodies.  It  undoes  many  thousands 
that  they  think  they  are  in  the  way  to  salvation  when 
they  are  not ;  and  think  that  they  are  converted  when 
it  is  no  such  thing.  And  then  when  we  call  to  them 
daily  to  turn,  they  go  away  as  they  came,  and  think 
that  this  concerns  not  them  ;  lor  they  are  turned  al- 
ready, and  hone  they  diaU  do  well  enough  in  the  way 


60  A   CALL   TO  Docl.  1. 

that  they  are  in,  at  least  if  they  pick  the  fairest  path, 
and  avoid  some  of  the  foulest  steps,  when,  alas !  all 
tliis  while  they  live  but  to  the  world  and  flesh,  and 
are  strangers  to  Gfod  and  eternal  life ;  and  are  quite 
out  of  the  way  to  heaven.  And  all  this  because  we 
cannot  persuade  them  to  a  few  serious  thoughts  of 
their  condition,  and  to  spend  a  few  hours  in  the  ex- 
amining of  their  states.  Are  there  not  maiiy  self- 
deceivers  who  hear  me  this  day,  that  never  bestowed 
one  hour,  or  quarter  of  an  hour,  in  all  their  lives,  to 
examine  their  souls,  and  try  whether  they  are  truly 
converted  or  not  ?  O  merciful  God,  that  will  care  ibr 
such  wretches  that  care  no  more  for  themselves,  and 
that  will  do  so  much  to  save  them  from  hell,  and  help 
them  to  heaven,  who  will  do  so  little  for  it  themselves ! 
If  all  that  are  in  the  way  to  hell,  and  in  the  state  of 
damnation,  did  but  know  it,  they  durst  not  continue 
in  it.  The  greatest  hope  that  the  devil  hath  of  bring- 
ing you  to  damnation  without  a  rescue,  is  by  keeping 
you  blindfold,  and  ignorant  of  your  state,  and  making 
you  believe  that  you  may  do  well  enough  in  the  way 
that  you  are  in.  If  you  knew  that  you  were  out  of 
the  way  to  heaven,  and  were  lost  for  ever  if  you  should 
die  as  you  are,  durst  you  sleep  another  night  in  the 
state  that  you  are  in  ?  Durst  you  live  another  day  in 
it  ?  Could  you  heartily  laugh,  or  be  merry  in  such  a 
state  ?  What !  And  not  know  but  you  may  be  snatch- 
ed away  to  hell  in  an  hour  ?  Sure  it  would  constrain 
you  to  forsake  your  former  company  and  courses,  and 
to  betake  yourselves  to  the  ways  of  holiness  and  the 
communion  of  saints.  Sure  it  would  drive  you  to  cry 
to  God  for  a  new  heart,  and  to  seek  help  of  those  that 
are  fit  to  counsel  you.  There  are  none  of  you  that 
care  for  beinn-  damned.     Well,  then  I  beseech  you 


Doct.  2.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  61 

presently  make  inquiry  into  your  hearts,  and  give 
them  no  rest  till  you  find  out  your  condition,  that  if  it 
be  good,  you  may  rejoice  in  it,  and  go  on ;  and  if  it  be 
bad,  you  may  presently  look  about  you  for  recovery, 
as  men  that  believe  they  must  turn  or  die.  What  say 
you,  sirs,  will  you  resolve  and  promise  to  be  at  thus 
much  labor  for  your  own  souls  ?  Will  you  now  enter 
upon  this  self-examination  ?  Is  my  request  unreason- 
able 1  Your  consciences  know  it  is  not.  Resolve  on 
it  then,  before  you  stir ;  knowing  how  much  it  con- 
cerneth  your  souls.  I  beseech  you,  for  the  sake  of  that 
God  that  doth  command  you,  at  whose  bar  you  will 
all  shortly  appear,  that  you  do  not  deny  me  this  rea- 
sonable request.  For  the  sake  of  those  souls  that  must 
turn  or  die,  I  beseech  you  deny  me  not ;  but  make  it 
your  business  to  understand  your  own  conditions,  and 
build  upon  sure  ground,  and  know  whether  you  are 
converted  or  not ;  and  venture  not  your  souls  on  negh- 
gent  security. 

But  perhaps  you  will  say,  '  What  if  we  should  find 
ourselves  yet  unconverted,  what  shall  we  do  then  V 
This  question  leads  me  to  my  second  Doctrine,  which 
will  do  much  to  the  answering  of  it,  to  Avhich  I  now 
proceed. 


DOCTRINE  II. 

It  is  the  promise  of  God,  that  the  wicked  shall  iive^ 
if  they  will  but  turn — unfeignedly  and  thorough- 
ly turn. 

The  Lord  here  professeth  that  this  is  what  he  takes 
pleeisure  in,  that  the  wicked  turn  and  live.     Heaven 
is  made  as  sure  to  the  converted,  as  hell  is  to  the  un- 
converted.   Turn  and  live,  is  as  certain  a  truth  a» 
6 


63  A   CALL   TO  Dwt.  2. 

turn  or  die.     God  w£is  not  bound  to  provide  us  a  Sa- 
vior, nor  open  to  us  a  door  of  hope,  nor  call  us  to  re- 
pent and  turn,  when  once  we  had  ceist  ourselves  away 
by  sin.     But  he  hath  freely  done  it  to  magnify  his 
mercy.     Sinners,  there  are  none  of  you  shall  have 
cause  to  go  home,  and  say  I  preach  desperation  to 
you.    Do  we  use  to  shut  the  door  of  mercy  against 
you  1    O  that  you  would  not  shut  it  up  against  your- 
selves !    Do  we  use  to  tell  you  that  God  will  have  no 
mercy  on  you,  though  you  turn  and  be  sanctified  ? 
When  did  you  ever  hear  a  preacher  say  such  a  word  ? 
You  that  cavil  at  the  preachers  of  the  Gospel  for  de- 
siring to  keep  you  out  of  hell,  and  say,  that  they 
preach  desperation ;  tell  me  if  you  can ;  when  did  you 
ever  hear  any  sober  man  say,  that  there  is  no  hope 
for  you,  though  you  repent,  and  be  converted  ?  No,  it 
is  the  direct  contrary  that  we  daily  proclaim  from  the 
Lord ;  and  whoever  is  born  again,  and  by  faith  and 
repentance  doth  become  a  new  creature,  shall  cer- 
tainly be  saved ;  and  so  far  are  we  from  persuading 
you  to  despair  of  this,  that  we  persuade  you  not  to 
make  any  doubt  of  it.    It  is  life,  not  death,  that  is  the 
first  part  of  our  message  to  you ;  our  commission  is  to 
offer  salvation,  certain  salvation ;  a  speedy,  glorious, 
everlasting  salvation,  to  every  one  of  you ;  to  the  poor- 
est beggar  as  well  as  the  greatest  lord ;  to  the  worst 
of  you,  even  to  drunkards,  swearers,  worldlings,  thieves, 
yea,  to  the  despisers  ajid  reproachers  of  the  holy  way 
of  salvation.     We  are  commanded  by  the  Lord  our 
Master  to  offer  you  a  pardon  for  all  that  is  past,  if  you 
will  but  now  at  last  return  and  live ;  we  are  com- 
manded to  beseech  and  entreat  you  to  accept  the  offer, 
and  return ;  to  tell  you  what  preparation  is  made  by 
Christ;  what  mercy  stays  for  you;  what  patience 


Doct.  2.  THE    UNCONVERTED.  63 

waiteth  for  you ;  what  thoughts  of  kindness  God  hath 
toward  yon ;  and  how  happy,  how  certainly  and  un- 
speakably happy  you  may  be  if  you  will.  We  have 
indeed  also  a  message  of  wrath  and  death,  yea,  of  a 
twofold  wrath  and  death ;  but  neither  of  them  is  o\ir 
principal  message.  We  must  tell  you  of  the  wrath 
that  is  on  you  already,  and  the  death  that  you  are 
born  under,  for  the  breach  of  the  law  of  works ;  but 
this  is  but  to  show  you  the  need  of  mercy,  and  tc 
provoke  you  to  esteem  the  grace  of  the  Redeemer. 
And  we  tell  you  nothing  but  the  truth,  which  you 
must  Imow ;  for  who  will  seelc  for  physic  that  knows 
not  that  he  is  sick  1  Our  telling  you  of  your  misery 
is  not  that  which  makes  you  miserable,  but  driveth 
you  out  to  seek  for  mercy.  It  is  you  that  have  brought 
this  death  upon  yourselves.  We  tell  you  also  of  an- 
other death,  even  remediless,  and  much  greater  tor- 
ment, that  will  fall  on  those  that  will  not  be  converted. 
But  as  this  is  true,  and  must  be  told  you,  so  it  is  but 
the  last  and  saddest  part  of  our  message.  We  are 
first  to  offer  you  mercy,  if  you  will  turn ;  and  it  is  only 
those  that  will  not  turn,  nor  hear  the  voice  of  mercy, 
to  whom  we  must  foretell  damnation.  Will  you  but 
cast  away  your  transgressions,  delay  no  longer,  but 
come  away  at  the  call  of  Christ,  and  be  converted, 
and  become  new  creatures,  and  we  have  not  a  word 
of  damning  wrath  or  death  to  speak  against  you.  I 
do  here,  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  of  Life,  proclaim  to 
you  all  that  hear  me  this  day,  to  the  worst  of  you,  to 
the  greatest,  to  the  oldest  sinner,  that  you  may  have 
mercy  and  salvation,  if  you  will  but  turn.  There  is 
mercy  in  God,  there  is  sufficiency  in  the  satisfaction 
of  Christ,  the  promise  is  free,  and  full,  and  universal ; 
you  may  have  life,  if  you  will  but  turn.    But  then, 


64  A   CALL   TO  DocL  2. 

as  you  love  your  souls,  remeniber  what  turning  it  is 
that  the  Scripture  ypeaks  of.  It  is  not  to  mend  the  old 
house,  but  to  pull  down  all,  and  build  anew  on  Christ, 
the  Rock,  and  sure  foundation.  It  is  not  to  mend 
somewhat  in  a  carnal  course  of  hfe,  but  to  mortify  the 
flesh,  and  live  after  the  Spirit.  It  is  not  to  serve  the 
flesh  and  the  Vv^orld,  in  a  more  reformed  way,  without 
any  scandalous  disgraceful  sins,  and  with  a  certain 
kind  of  religiousness ;  but  it  is  to  change  your  master, 
and  your  works,  and  end ;  and  to  set  your  face  the 
contrary  way,  and  do  all  for  the  life  that  you  never 
saw,  and  dedicate  yourselves  and  all  you  have  to 
Grod.  This  is  the  change  that  must  be  made,  if  you 
will  live. 

Yourselves  are  witnesses  now,  that  it  is  salvation, 
and  not  damnation,  that  is  the  great  doctrine  I  preach 
to  you,  and  the  first  part  of  my  message  to  you.  Ac- 
cept of  this,  and  we  shall  go  no  farther  with  you ; 
for  we  would  not  so  much  as  aflright,  or  trouble  you 
with  the  name  of  damnation,  without  necessity. 

But  if  you  will  not  be  saved,  there  is  no  remedy, 
but  damnation  must  take  place ;  for  there  is  no  middle 
place  between  the  two ;  you  must  have  either  life  or 
death. 

And  we  arc  not  only  to  offer  you  life,  but  to  bIiow 
you  the  grounds  on  which  we  do  it,  and  call  you  to 
belie.ve  that  God  dotli  mean,  indeed,  as  bespeaks; 
that  the  promise  is  true,  and  extended  conditionally 
to  you,  as  well  as  others ;  and  that  heaven  is  no  fancy, 
but  a  true  felicity. 

If  you  ask.  Where  is  your  commigsion  for  this  offer? 
Among  a  hundred  texts  of  Scripture,  I  will  show  it  to 
you  in  these  few : 

First,  You  see  it  here  in  my  text,  and  tlie  following 


Doct.  2.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  65 

verses,  and  in  the  18th  of  Ezekiel,  as  plain  as  can  be 
spuken ;  and  in  2  Cor.  5  :  17,  21,  you  have  the  very 
sum  of  our  commission  :  "  If  any  man  be  in  Christ,  he 
is  a  new  creature :  old  things  are  passed  away  ;  be- 
hold, all  things  are  become  new.  And  all  things  are 
of  God,  who  hath  reconciled  us  to  himself  by  Jesus 
Christ,  and  hath  given  to  us  the  ministry  of  reconci- 
hation ;  to  wit,  that  God  was  in  Christ  reconciling  the 
world  unto  himself,  not  imputing  their  trespasses  to 
them,  and  hath  committed  unto  us  the  word  of  recon- 
ciliation. Now  then,  we  are  ambassadors  for  Christ, 
as  though  God  did  beseech  you  by  us  :  we  pray  you 
in  Christ's  stead,  be  ye  reconciled  unto  God.  For  he 
hath  made  him  to  be  sin  for  us,  who  knew  no  sin ;  that 
we  might  be  made  the  righteousness  of  God  in  liim." 
So  Mark,  16  :  15,  16,  "  Go  ye  into  all  the  world,  and 
preach  the  Gospel  to  every  creature.  He  that  be- 
lieveth,"  (that  is  with  such  a  converting  faith  as  is  ex- 
pressed,) "  and  is  baptized,  shall  be  saved ;  and  he 
that  believeth  not,  shall  be  damned."  And  Luke, 
24  :  46,  47  :  "  Thus  it  behoved  Christ  to  suffer,  and 
to  rise  from  the  dead  the  third  day  :  and  that  repen- 
tance" (which  is  conversion)  "  and  remission  of  sina 
should  be  preached  in  his  name  among  all  nations." 
And,  Acts  5  :  30,  31,  "  The  God  of  our  fathers  raised 
up  Jesus,  whom  ye  slew,  and  hanged  on  a  tree :  him 
hath  God  exalted  with  his  right  hand,  to  be  a  Prince 
and  a  Savior,  to  give  repentance  to  Israel,  and  for- 
giveness of  sins."  And  Acts,  13  :  38,  39,  "  Be  it  known 
unto  you,  therefore,  men  and  brethren,  that  through 
this  man  is  preached  unto  you  the  forgiveness  of  sins ; 
and  by  him  all  that  believe  are  justified  from  all 
things,  from  which  ye  could  not  be  justified  by  the 
law  of  Moses."  And  lest  you  tliink  this  oflfer  is  re- 
6* 


66  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  2. 

Strained  to  the  Jew:,  see  Gal.  6  :  15,  "  For  in  Clirist 
Jesus,  neither  circumcision  availeth  any  tiling,  nor  un- 
circumcision,  but  a  new  creature."  And  Luke,  14  :  17, 
"  Come,  for  all  things  are  now  ready." 

You  see  by  this  time  that  we  are  commanded  to 
offer  life  to  you  all,  and  to  tell  you  from  God,  that  it 
you  will  turn,  you  may  live. 

Here  you  may  safely  trust  your  souls ;  for  the  lovt 
of  God  is  the  foundation  of  this  offer,  (John,  3  :  16,)  and 
tlie  blood  of  the  Son  of  God  hath  purchased  it ;  the 
faitlifulness  and  truth  of  God  is  engaged  to  make  the 
promise  good ;  miracles  ofl  sealed  the  truth  of  it ; 
preachers  are  sent  through  the  world  to  proclaim  it ; 
and  the  Spirit  doth  open  the  heart  to  entertain  it,  and 
is  itself  the  earnest  of  the  full  possession :  so  that  the 
truth  of  it  is  past  controversy,  that  the  worst  of  you 
all,  and  every  one  of  you,  if  you  will  but  be  converted, 
may  be  saved. 

Indeed,  if  you  will  believe  that  you  shall  be  saved 
without  conversion,  then  you  believe  a  falsehood ;  and 
if  I  should  preach  that  to  you,  I  should  preach  a  lie. 
This  were  not  to  believe  God,  but  the  devil  and  your 
own  deceitful  hearts.  God  hath  hia  promise  of  life, 
and  the  devil  hath  his  promise  of  life.  God's  promise 
is.  Return  and  live.  The  devil's  promise  is,  You  shall 
live  whether  you  turn  or  not.  The  words  of  God  are, 
as  I  have  showed  you,  "  Except  ye  be  converted  and 
become  as  little  children,  ye  cannot  enter  into  tlie 
kingdom  of  heaven."  Matt.  18  :  3.  "  Except  a  man 
be  born  again,  he  cannot  enter  into  tlie  kingdom  ot 
God."  John,  3  :  3,  5.  "  Without  hohness  no  man  shall 
see  the  Lord."  Heb.  12  :  14.  The  devil's  word  is, 
"  You  may  be  saved  without  being  born  again  and 
converted ;  you  may  do  well  enough  without  being 


Doct.  9.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  67 

lioly,  God  doth  bat  frighten  you ;  he  is  more  merciful 
than  to  do  as  he  saith,  he  will  be  better  to  you  than 
his  word."  And,  alas,  the  greatest  part  of  ie  world 
believe  this  -word  of  the  devil  before  the  word  of  God; 
just  as  our  sin  and  misery  came  into  the  world.  God 
said  to  our  first  parents,  "  If  ye  eat  ye  shall  die ;"  and 
the  devil  contradicted  him,  and  said,  "  Ye  shall  not 
•die :"  and  the  woman  believed  the  devil  before  God. 
So  now  the  Lord  saith.  Turn  or  die :  and  the  devil 
saith,  You  shall  not  die,  if  you  do  but  cry  for  God's 
mercy  at  last,  and  give  over  the  acts  of  sin  when  you 
can  practise  it  no  longer.  And  this  is  the  word  tiiat 
the  world  believes.  O  heinous  wickedness,  to  believe 
the  devil  before  God. 

And  yet  that  is  not  the  worst ;  but  blasphemously 
they  call  this  a  believing  and  trusting  in  God,  when 
they  put  him  in  the  shape  of  satan,  who  was  a  liar 
from  the  begirming ;  and  when  they  believe  that  the 
word  of  God  is  a  lie,  they  call  this  a  trusting  God,  and 
say  they  believe  in  him,  and  trust  in  him  for  salva- 
tion. Where  did  ever  God  say,  that  the  unregenerate, 
unconverted,  unsanctified,  shall  be  saved  ?  Show  me 
Buch  a  word  in  Scripture.  Why  this  is  the  devil's 
word,  and  to  believe  it  is  to  believe  the  devil,  and  the 
sin  that  is  commonly  called  presumption ;  and  do  you 
call  this  a  believing  and  trusting  in  God '?  There  is 
enough  in  the  word  of  God  to  comfort  and  strengthen 
the  heart  of  the  sanctified,  but  n»t  a  word  to  strengthen 
the  hands  of  wickedness,  nor  to  give  men  the  least  hope 
of  being  saved  though  they  be  never  sanctified. 

But  if  you  will  turn,  and  come  into  the  way  of 
mercy,  the  mercy  of  the  Lord  is  ready  to  entertain 
you.  Then  trust  God  for  salvation,  boldly  and  confi- 
dently ;  for  he  is  engaged  by  his  word  to  save  yott. 


68  A  CALL  TO  Doct.  3. 

He  will  be  a  father  to  none  but  his  children ;  and  he 
will  save  none  but  tliose  that  forsake  the  world,  the 
devil,  and  tlie  flesh,  and  come  into  his  family  to  be 
members  of  his  Son,  and  hdve  communion  with  hia 
saints.  But  if  they  will  not  come  in,  it  is  the  fault 
of  themselves :  his  doors  are  open ;  he  keeps  none  back ; 
lie  never  sent  such  a  message  as  this  to  any  of  you, 
"  It  is  now  too  late ;  I  will  not  receive  thee,  though 
thou  be  converted."  He  might  have  done  so  and  done 
you  no  wrong ;  but  he  did  not ;  he  doth  not  to  this  day. 
He  is  still  ready  to  receive  you,  if  you  were  but  ready 
unfeignedly,  and  with  all  your  hearts,  to  turn.  And 
the  fulness  of  this  truth  will  yet  more  appear  in  the 
two  following  doctrines,  which  I  shall  therefore  next 
proceed  to  before  I  make  any  further  application  of 
this. 


DOCTRINE  III. 

God  taketh  pleasure  in  vi  ell's  conversion  and  sal- 
vation, but  not  in  their  death  or  damnation.  He 
had  rather  they  would  turn  and  live,  tJian  go  on 
and  die. 

"  The  Lord  is  long  suffering  to  us-ward,"  says  the 
apostle,  "  not  willing  that  any  should  perish,  but  that 
all  Bhould  come  to  repentance."  2  Pet.  3:9.  He  un- 
feignedly willeth  the  conversion  of  all  men,  even  of 
those  that  never  will  be  converted,  but  not  as  absolute 
Lord  with  the  fullest  efficacious  resolution,  nor  as  a 
thing  which  he  resolveth  shall  undoubtedly  come  to 
pass,  or  would  engage  all  his  power  to  accomplish.  It 
is  in  the  power  of  a  prince  to  set  a  guard  upon  a  mur- 
derer, to  see  that  he  shall  not  murder,  and  be  hanged ; 
but  if,  upon  good  reason,  he  forbear  tliis,  and  do  but 


Doct.  3.  THE    UNCONVERTED.  G9 

send  to  his  subjects  to  warn  and  entreat  them  not  to 
be  murderers,  he  may  well  say  that  he  would  not  have 
them  murder  and  be  hanged ;  he  takes  no  pleasure  in 
it,  but  rather  that  they  forbear  and  live,  and  if  he  do 
more  for  some  upon  some  special  reason,  he  is  not 
bound  to  do  so  by  all.  The  king  may  well  say  to  all 
murderers  and  felons  in  the  land,  "  I  have  no  pleasure 
in  your  death,  but  rather  that  you  would  obey  my 
laws  and  live ;  but  if  you  will  not,  I  am  resolved,  for 
all  this,  chat  you  shall  die."  The  judge  may  truly 
say  to  the  murderer,  "  Alas,  I  have  no  delight  in  thy 
death ;  I  had  rather  thou  hadst  kept  the  law  and  saved 
thy  life ;  but  seeing  thou  hast  not,  I  must  condemn 
thee,  or  else  I  should  be  mijust."  So,  though  God  have 
no  pleasure  in  your  damnation,  and  therefore  calls 
upon  you  to  return  and  live,  yet  he  hath  pleasure  in 
the  demonstration  of  his  own  justice,  and  the  execut- 
ing of  his  laws;  and  therefore  he  is,  for  all  this,  fully 
resolved,  that  if  you  will  not  be  converted,  you  shall 
be  condemned.  If  God  was  so  much  against  the 
death  of  the  wicked  as  that  he  were  resolved  to  do 
all  that  he  can  to  hinder  it,  then  no  man  should  be 
condemned ;  whereas  Christ  telleth  you,  that  "  nar- 
row is  the  way  that  leadeth  unto  life,  and  few  there 
be  that  find  it."  But  so  far  God  is  opposed  to  your 
damnation  as  that  he  will  teach  you,  and  warn  you, 
and  set  before  you  hfe  and  death,  and  offer  you  your 
choice,  and  command  his  ministers  to  entreat  you  not 
to  destroy  yourselves,  but  accept  his  mercy,  and  so  to 
leave  you  without  excuse.  But  if  this  will  not  dc, 
and  if  still  you  be  unconverted,  he  professeth  to  you, 
he  is  resolved  on  your  damnation,  and  hath  com- 
manded us  to  say  to  you  in  his  name,  verse  8,  "  O 
wicked  man  thou  shalt  surely  die !"    And  Christ  hath 


7D  A   CALL   TO  Do€t.  3 

little  less  than  sworn  it,  over  and  over,  with  a  "  verily, 
verily,  except  ye  be  converted  ami  born  again,  ye 
cannot  enter  into  the  kingdom  (A'  lieaven."  Matt. 
18  :  3.  John,  3  :  3.  Mark,  tliat  he  saith,  "  you  can- 
not." It  is  in  vain  to  hope  for  it,  and  in  vain  to  dream 
tliat  God  is  willing  for  it ;  for  it  is  a  thing  tliat  can- 
not be. 

In  a  word,  you  see  then  the  meaning  of  the  text, 
that  God,  the  great  Lawgiver  of  the  world,  doth  take 
no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked,  but  rather  that 
they  turn  and  hve ;  though  yet  he  be  resolved  that 
none  shall  live  but  those  tliat  turn ;  and  as  a  judge, 
even  delighteth  in  justice,  and  in  manifesting  his 
hatred  of  sin,  though  not  in  the  misery  which  sinners 
have  brought  upon  themselves,  in  itself  considered. 

And  for  the  proofs  of  the  point,  I  shall  be  very 
brief  in  them,  because  I  suppose  you  easily  beheve  it 
already. 

1.  The  very  gracious  nature  of  God  proclaimed : 
"  And  the  Lord  passed  by  before  him,  and  proclaim- 
ed, The  Lord,  the  Lord  God,  merciful  and  gracious, 
long-suffering,  and  abundant  in  goodness  and  truth, 
keeping  mercy  for  thousands,  forgiving  iniquity,  and 
transgression,  and  sin,  and  that  will  by  no  means 
clear  the  guilty ;"  (Exod.  34  :  6,  7 ;)  and  frequently 
elsewhere,  may  assure  you  of  this.  That  he  hath  no 
pleasure  in  your  death. 

2.  If  God  had  more  pleasure  in  thy  death,  than  in 
thy  conversion  and  life,  he  would  not  have  so  fre- 
quently commanded  thee  in  his  word,  to  turn;  he 
would  not  have  made  thee  such  promises  of  life,  if 
thou  wilt  but  turn :  he  would  not  have  persuaded  thee 
to  it  by  so  many  reasons.  The  tenor  of  his  Gospel 
proveth  the  point. 


Dact.  3.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  71 

3.  And  his  commission  that  he  hath  given  to  the 
ministers  of  the  Gospel  doth  fully  prove  it.  If  God 
had  taken  more  pleasure  in  thy  damnation,  than  in 
thy  conversion  and  salvation,  he  would  never  have 
charged  us  to  offer  you  mercy,  and  to  teach  you  the 
way  of  life,  both  publicly  and  privately :  and  to  en- 
treat and  beseech  you  to  turn  and  live ;  to  acquaint 
5''oii  with  your  sins,  and  foretell  you  of  your  danger ; 
and  to  do  all  that  possibly  we  can  for  your  conversion, 
and  to  continue  patiently  so  doing,  though  you  should 
hate  or  abuse  us  for  our  pains.  Would  God  have  done 
this,  and  appointed  his  ordinances  for  your  good,  if  he 
had  taken  pleasure  in  your  death  ? 

4.  It  is  proved  also  by  the  course  of  his  providence. 
If  God  had  rather  you  were  damned  than  converted 
and  saved,  he  would  not  second  his  word  with  his 
works,  and  entice  you  by  his  daily  kindness  to  himself^ 
and  give  you  all  the  mercies  of  this  life,  which  are 
means  "  to  lead  you  to  repentance,"  (Rom.  2  :  4,)  and 
bring  you  so  often  under  his  rod,  to  lead  you  to  your 
senses ;  he  would  not  set  so  many  examples  before 
your  eyes,  no,  nor  wait  on  you  so  patiently  as  he  does 
from  day  to  day,  and  year  to  year.  These  are  not 
signs  of  one  that  taketh  pleasure  in  your  death.  If 
this  had  been  his  delight,  how  easily  could  he  have 
had  thee  long  ago  in  hell  ?  How  oft,  before  this,  could 
he  have  catched  thee  away  in  the  midst  of  thy  sins 
witli  a  curse  or  oath,  or  lie  in  thy  mouth,  in  thy  igno- 
rance, and  pride,  and  sensuality  ?  When  thou  wert 
last  in  thy  drunkenness,  or  last  deriding  the  ways  of 
God,  how  easily  could  he  liave  stopped  thy  breath, 
and  tamed  thee  Avith  plagues,  and  made  thee  sober 
in  another  world !  Alas  !  how  small  a  matter  is  it  for 
the  Almighty  to  rule  the  tongue  of  the  profanest  railer, 


72  A   CALL  T\)  Doct.  S. 

and  tie  the  hands  of  the  most  mahcious  persecutor,  or 
calm  tlie  fury  of  the  bitterest  of  his  enemies,  and  make 
tliem  know  that  they  are  but  worms  ?  If  he  should 
but  frown  upon  thee  thou  wouldst  drop  into  thy  grave. 
If  he  gave  commission  to  one  of  his  angels  to  go  and 
destroy  ten  thousand  sinners,  how  quickly  would  it  be 
done !  how  easily  can  lie  lay  thee  upon  the  bed  of 
languishing,  and  make  thee  lie  roaring  there  in  pain, 
and  make  thee  eat  the  words  of  reproach  which  thou 
hast  spoken  against  his  servants,  his  word,  his  wor- 
ship, and  his  holy  ways,  and  make  thee  send  to  beg 
their  prayers  whom  thou  didst  despise  in  thy  presump- 
tion ?  How  easily  can  he  lay  that  flesh  under  pains, 
and  groans,  and  make  it  too  weak  to  hold  thy  soul, 
and  make  it  more  loathsome  than  the  dung  of  the 
earth  ?  That  flesh  which  now  must  have  what  it 
loves,  and  must  not  be  displeased^  though  God  be  dis- 
pleased ;  and  must  be  humored  in  meat,  and  drink, 
and  clothes,  whatever  God  say  to  the  contrary,  how 
quickly  would  the  frowns  of  God  consume  it  ?  When 
thou  wast  passionately  defending  thy  sin,  and  quar- 
relling with  them  that  would  have  drawn  thee  from 
it,  and  showing  thy  spleen  against  the  reprover,  and 
pleading  for  the  works  of  darkness ;  how  easily  could 
God  have  snatched  thee  away  in  a  moment,  and  set 
thee  before  his  dreadful  Majesty,  where  thou  shouldst 
Bee  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  glorious  angels 
waiting  on  his  throne,  and  have  called  thee  there  to 
plead  thy  cause,  and  asked  thee  "  What  hast  thou 
now  to  say  Eigainst  thy  Creator,  his  truth,  his  servants, 
or  his  holy  ways  ?  Now  plead  thy  cause,  and  make 
the  best  of  it  thou  canst.  Nov/  what  canst  thou  say 
in  excuse  of  thy  sins  ?  Now  give  account  of  thy  world- 
liness  and  fleshly  life,  ol"  thy  time,  of  all  Uie  mercies 


Doct.  3.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  73 

thou  hast  had."  O  how  thy  stubborn  heart  would 
have  melted,  and  thy  proud  looks  be  taken  down,  and 
thy  countenance  be  appalled,  and  thy  stout  words 
turned  into  speechless  silence,  or  dreadful  cries,  if  God 
had  but  set  thee  thus  at  his  bar,  and  pleaded  his  own 
cause  with  thee,  which  thou  hast  here  so  maliciously 
pleaded  against !  How  easily  can  he  at  any  time  say 
to  thy  guilty  soul,  Come  away,  and  live  in  that  flesh 
no  more  till  the  resurrection,  and  it  cannot  resist !  A 
word  of  his  mouth  would  take  off  the  poise  of  thy  pre- 
sent life,  and  then  all  thy  parts  and  powers  would 
stand  still ;  and  if  he  say  unto  thee,  Live  no  longer,  or, 
live  in  hell,  thou  couldst  not  disobey. 

But  God  hath  yet  done  none  of  this,  but  hath  pa- 
tiently forborne  thee,  and  mercifully  upheld  thee,  and 
given  thee  that  breath  which  thou  didst  breathe  out 
against  him,  and  given  those  mercies  which  thou 
didst  sacrifice  to  thy  flesh,  and  afibrded  thee  that  pro- 
vision which  thou  didst  use  to  satisfy  thy  greedy 
tliroat :  he  gave  thee  every  minute  of  that  time  which 
thou  didst  waste  in  idleness,  or  drunkenness,  or  world- 
liness  •,  and  doth  not  all  his  patience  and  mercy  show 
that  he  desired  not  thy  damnation  1  Can  the  candle 
burn  without  the  oil  ?  Can  your  houses  stand  without 
the  earth  to  bear  them '?  No  more  can  you  live  an 
hour  without  the  support  of  God.  And  why  did  he 
60  long  support  thy  life,  but  to  see  when  thou  wouldst 
bethink  thee  of  tlie  folly  of  thy  ways,  and  return  and 
live  ?  Will  any  man  purposely  put  arms  into  his  ene- 
my's hands  to  resist  liim,  or  hold  a  candle  to  a  mur- 
derer that  is  Idlling  his  children,  or  to  an  idle  servant 
that  plays  or  sleeps  the  whde  1  Surely  it  is  to  see 
whether  thou  wilt  at  last  return  and  live,  that  Gfod 
hath  so  long  waited  on  thee. 
7 


74  A  CALL   TO  Duel   3l 

5.  It  is  further  proved  by  the  siiflering  of  his  Son, 
thatGrod  taketh  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked. 
"Would  he  have  ransomed  them  from  death  at  so  dear 
a  rate  ?  Would  he  have  astonished  angels  and  men 
by  his  condescension?  "VV^ould  God  have  dwelt  in 
flesh,  and  have  come  in  the  form  of  a  servant,  and 
have  assumed  humanity  into  one  person  with  the  God- 
head ;  and  would  Christ  have  lived  a  life  of  suffering, 
and  died  a  cursed  deaih  for  sinners,  if  he  had  rather 
taken  pleasure  in  their  death  ?  Suppose  you  saw  him 
but  so  busy  in  preaching  and  heahng  of  them,  as  you 
find  him  in  Mark,  3  :  21 ;  or  so  long  in  fasting,  as  in 
Matt.  4 ;  or  all  night  in  prayer,  as  in  Luke  6  :  12 ;  or 
praying  with  the  drops  of  blood  trickling  from  liim 
instead  of  sweat,  as  Luke  22  :  44 ;  or  suffering  a  cursed 
death  upon  the  cross,  and  pouring  out  Ms  soul  as  a  sa- 
crifice for  our  sins — would  you  have  thought  these  the 
signs  of  one  that  delighted  in  the  death  of  the  wicked  1 

And  think  net  to  extenuate  it  by  saying,  that  it 
was  only  for  his  elect :  for  it  was  thy  sin,  and  the  sin 
of  all  the  world,  tliat  lay  upon  our  Redeemer ;  and  his 
sacrifice  and  satisfaction  is  sufiicient  for  all,  and  the 
fruits  of  it  are  offered  to  one  as  well  as  another.  But  it 
is  true,  that  it  was  never  the  intent  of  his  mind  to  par- 
don and  save  any  that  would  not,  by  faith  and  repen- 
tance, be  converted.  If  you  had  seen  and  heard  him 
weeping  and  bemoaning  the  state  of  disobedience  in 
impenitent  people  :  (Luke,  19  :  41,  42,)  "  And  when 
he  was  come  near,  he  beheld  the  city,  and  wept  over 
it,  saying,  if  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou,  at  least  m 
this  thy  day,  the  things  which  belong  unto  thy  peace ! 
but  now  they  are  hid  from  thine  eyes" — or  complain- 
ing of  their  stubbornness,  as  Matt.  23  :  37,  "  O  Jeru- 
ealem,  Jerusalem,  how  often  would  I  have  gathered 


©oot.  4.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  75 

thy  children  together,  even  as  a  hen  gathereth  her 
chickens  under  her  wings,  and  ye  would  not !"  or 
if  you  had  seen  and  heard  him  on  the  cross,  praying 
for  his  persecutors — Father,  forgive  them,  for  they 
know  not  what  they  do — would  3.^ou  have  suspected 
that  he  had  delighted  in  the  death  of  the  wicked,  even 
of  those  that  perish  by  their  wilful  unbelief  ?  When 
God  hath  BO  loved,  (not  only  loved,  but  so  lOved,)  as 
to  give  his  only  begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believ- 
eth  in  him  (by  an  efiectual  faith)  should  not  perish, 
but  have  everlasting  life,  I  think  he  hath  hereby 
proved,  against  the  malice  of  men  and  devils,  that  he 
takes  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked,  but  had 
rather  that  they  would  "  turn  and  live." 

6.  Lastly,  If  all  this  will  not  yet  satisfy  you,  take 
His  own  word  that  knoweth  best  his  own  mind,  or  at 
least  believe  his  oath  :  but  this  leads  me  to  the  fourth 
doctrine. 


DOCTRINE   IV. 

The  Lord  hath  confirmed  to  us  by  his  Oath,  that  he 

hath  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked,  hut 

rather  that  he  turn  and  live;  that  he  may  leave 

man  no  pretence  to  question  the  truth  of  it. 

If  you  dare  question  his  word,  I  hope  you  dare  not 

question  his  oath.    As  Christ  hath  solemnly  protested 

that  the  unregenerate  and  unconverted  cannot  enter 

into  the  kingdom  of  heaven ;  (Matt.  18:3;  John, 

3  :  3 ;)  so  God  hath  sworn  that  his  pleasure  is  not  in 

their  death,  but  in  their  conversion  and  life.    And  as 

the  apostle  saith,  (Heb.  4  :  13,  18,)  because  he  can 

swear  by  no  greater,  he  sware  by  himself    "  For  men 

verily  swear  by  the  greater :  and  an  oath  for  confirma- 


76  A   CALL   TO  Doc».  ^ 

tion  is  to  them  an  end  of  strife.  Wherein  God,  will- 
ing more  abundantly  to  show  unto  the  heirs  of  pro- 
mise the  immutability  of  his  counsel,  confirmed  it  by 
an  oath ;  that  Iby  two  immutable  things  in  which  it 
was  impossible  for  God  to  lie,  we  might  have  strong 
consolation,  who  have  fled  for  refuge  to  lay  hold  on 
the  hope  set  before  us :  which  hope  we  have  as  an 
anchor  of  the  soul  both  sure  and  steadfast."  If  there 
be  any  man  that  cannot  reconcile  this  truth  with  the 
doctrine  of  predestination,  or  the  actual  damnation  of 
the  wicked,  that  is  his  own  ignorance ;  he  hath  no 
pretence  left  to  question  or  deny  therefore  the  truth  of 
the  point  in  hand ;  for  this  is  confirmed  by  the  oath 
of  God,  and  therefore  must  not  be  distorted,  to  reduce 
it  to  other  points:  but  doubtful  points  must  rather  be 
reduced  to  it,  and  certain  truths  must  be  believed  to 
agree  with  it,  though  our  shallow  minds  hardly  dis- 
cern the  agreement. 

Use. — I  do  now  entreat  thee,  if  thou  be  an  uncon- 
verted sinner  that  hearest  these  words,  that  thov- 
wouldst  ponder  a  little  upon  the  forementioned  doc- 
trines, and  bethink  thyself  awhile  who  it  is  that  take? 
pleasure  in  thy  sin  and  damnation.  Certainly  it  i? 
not  God ;  he  hath  sworn  for  his  part  that  he  takes  n(? 
pleasure  in  it.  And  I  laiow  it  is  not  the  pleasing  oi 
him  that  you  intend.  You  dare  not  say  that  you 
drink,  and  swear,  and  neglect  holy  duties,  and  quench 
the  motions  of  the  Spirit  to  please  God.  That  were 
as  if  you  should  reproach  the  prince,  and  tweak  hie 
laws,  and  seek  his  death,  and  say  you  did  all  this  to 
please  him. 

Who  is  it  then  that  takes  pleasure  in  your  sin  and 
death  ?   Not  any  that  bear  the  image  of  God,  for  they 


Doct.  4.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  7? 

must  be  like  minded  to  him.  God  knows,  it  is  small 
pleasure  to  your  faithful  teachers  to  see  you  serve 
your  deadly  enemy,  and  madly  venture  your  eternal 
state,  and  wilfully  run  into  the  flames  of  hell.  It  is 
small  pleasure  to  them  to  see  upon  your  souls  (in  the 
ead  effects)  such  blindness,  and  hard-heartedness,  and 
carelessness,  and  presumption ;  such  \vilfulness  in  evil, 
and  such  miteachableness  and  stiffness  against  the 
■ways  of  life  and  peace ;  they  know  these  are  marks 
of  death,  and  of  the  wratli  of  God,  and  they  know, 
from  the  word  of  God,  what  is  like  to  be  the  end  of 
them,  and  therefore  it  is  no  more  pleasure  to  them 
than  to  a  tender  physician  to  see  the  plague-marks 
broke  out  upon  his  patient.  Alas,  to  foresee  your  ever- 
lasting torments,  and  know  not  how  to  prevent  them ! 
To  see  how  near  you  are  to  hell,  and  we  cannot  make 
you  believe  it  and  consider  it.  To  see  how  easily, 
how  certainly  you  might  escape,  if  we  knew  but  how 
to  make  you  willing.  How  fair  you  are  for  everlast- 
ing salvation,  if  you  would  turn  and  do  your  best,  and 
make  it  the  care  and  business  of  your  lives !  but  you 
will  not  do  it;  if  our  hves  lay  on  it,  we  cannot  per- 
suade you  to  it.  We  study  day  and  night  what  to 
eay  to  you  that  may  convince  and  persuade  you,  and 
yet  it  is  undone :  we  lay  before  you  the  word  of  God, 
and  show  you  the  very  chapter  and  verse  w^here  it  is 
written,  that  you  cannot  be  saved  except  you  be  con- 
verted ;  and  yet  we  leave  the  most  of  you  as  we  find 
you.  We  hope  you  will  believe  the  word  of  God, 
tliough  you  believe  not  us,  and  regard  it  when  we 
show  5^ou  the  plain  Scripture  for  it ;  but  we  hope  in 
vain,  and  labor  in  vain  as  to  any  saving  change  upon 
your  hearts !  And  do  you  think  that  this  is  a  pleasant 
thing  *;o  us?  Many  a  time,  in  secret  prayer,  we  are 
7* 


78  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  4. 

fain  to  complain  to  Grod  with  sad  hearts,  "  Alas,  Lord, 
we  have  spoken  to  them  in  thy  name,  but  they  little 
regard  us ;  we  have  told  them  what  thou  bidst  us  tell 
them  concerning  the  danger  of  an  unconverted  state, 
but  they  do  not  believe  us  :  we  have  told  them  that 
ti'iou  hast  protested  that  there  is  no  ])eace  to  the 
wicked  ;"  (Isa.  57  :  21 ;)  "  but  the  worst  of  them  all 
will  scarcely  believe  that  they  are  wicked.  We 
have  showed  them  thy  word,  where  thou  hast  said, 
that  if  they  live  after  the  flesh  they  shall  die ;"  (Rom. 
8 :  13,)  "  but  they  say,  they  will  believe  in  thee,  when 
they  will  not  believe  ihee ;  and  that  they  will  trust  in 
thee,  when  they  give  no  credit  to  thy  word ;  and  when 
tliey  hope  that  the  threatenings  of  thy  word  are  false, 
they  will  yet  call  this  a  hoping  in  God ;  and  though 
we  show  them  where  thou  hast  said,  that  when  a 
wicked  man  dieth,  all  his  hopes  perish,  yet  cannot  we 
persuade  them  from  their  deceitful  hopes."  Prov. 
11  :  7.  "  We  tell  them  what  a  base  unprofitable 
thing  sin  is ;  but  they  love  it,  and  therefore  will  not 
leave  it.  We  tell  them  how  dear  they  buy  this  plea- 
sure, and  what  they  must  pay  for  it  in  everlasting 
torment ;  and  they  bless  themselves,  and  will  not  be- 
lieve it,  but  \vill  do  as  the  most  do ;  and  because  God 
is  merciful,  they  will  not  believe  him,  but  will  ven- 
ture tlieir  aouls,  come  what  will.  We  tell  them  how 
ready  the  Lord  is  to  receive  them,  and  this  doth  but 
make  them  delay  their  repentance  and  be  bolder  in 
their  sin.  Some  of  them  say  they  purpose  to  repent, 
but  they  are  still  the  same ;  and  some  say  they  do  re- 
pent already,  while  yet  they  are  not  converted  from 
tlieir  sins.  We  exhort  them,  we  entreat  them,  we 
offer  them  our  help,  but  we  cannot  prevail  with  them ; 
but  they  that  were  drunkards,  are  drunkards  still ;  and 


Doct.  4.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  79 

they  that  were  voluptuous  flesh-pleasiiig  \vretches,  are 
such  still ;  and  they  that  were  worldlings,  are  world- 
lings still ;  and  they  that  were  ignorant,  and  proud, 
and  self-conceited,  are  so  still.  Few  of  them  will  see 
and  confess  their  sin,  and  fewer  will  forsake  it,  but 
comfort  themselves  that  all  men  are  sinners,  as  if  there 
were  no  difference  between  a  converted  sinner  and  an 
unconverted.  Some  of  them  will  not  come  near  us, 
when  we  are  willing  to  instruct  them,  but  think  they 
Imow  enough  already,  and  need  not  our  instruction ; 
and  some  of  them  will  give  us  the  hearing,  and  do 
what  they  Hst ;  and  most  of  them  are  like  dead  men 
that  cannot  feel ;  so  that  when  we  tell  them  of  the 
matters  of  everlasting  consequence,  we  cannot  get  a 
word  of  it  to  their  hearts.  If  we  do  not  obey  them, 
and  humor  them  in  doing  all  that  they  would  have 
us,  though  never  so  much  against  the  word  of  God, 
they  will  hate  us,  and  rail  at  us ;  but  if  we  beseech 
them  to  confess,  and  forsake  their  sins,  and  save  their 
BOuls,  they  will  not  do  it.  They  would  have  us  dis- 
obey God  and  damn  our  own  souls,  to  please  them ; 
and  yet  they  will  not  turn  and  save  their  own  souls 
to  please  God.  They  are  wiser  in  their  own  ej^es  than 
all  their  teachers ;  they  rage  and  are  confident  in  their 
own  way,  and  if  we  are  ever  so  anxious  we  cannot 
change  them.  Lord,  this  is  the  case  of  our  miserable 
neighbors,  and  we  cannot  help  it ;  we  see  them  ready 
to  drop  into  hell,  and  we  cannot  help  it ;  we  know  if 
they  would  unfeignedly  turn,  they  might  be  saved, 
but  we  cannot  persuade  them ;  if  we  would  beg  it  of 
them  on  our  knees,  we  cannot  persuade  tliem  to  it ;  if 
we  would  beg  it  of  them  with  tears,  we  cannot  per- 
suade them ;  and  what  more  can  we  do  ? 
These  are  the  secret  complaints  and  moans  iliat 


80  A   CALL  TO  Doct.  4. 

many  a  poor  minister  is  compelled  to  make.  And  do 
you  think  that  he  hath  any  pleasure  in  this?  Is  it  a 
pleasure  to  him  to  see  you  go  on  in  sin,  and  cannot 
stop  you?  to  see  you  so  miserable,  and  cannot  so 
much  as  make  you  sensible  of  it  ?  to  see  you  merry 
when  you  are  not  sure  to  be  an  hour  out  of  hell  ?  to 
think  what  you  must  for  ever  suffer,  because  you  wil. 
not  turn?  and  to  think  what  an  everlasting  life  of 
glory  you  wilfully  despise  and  cast  away?  What 
sadder  thing  can  you  bring  to  their  hearts,  and  how 
can  you  devise  to  grieve  them  more  ? 

Who  is  it  then  that  you  please  by  your  sin  and 
death?  It  is  none  of  your  understanding  godly  friends. 
Alas,  it  is  the  grief  of  their  souls  to  see  your  misery, 
and  they  lament  you  many  a  time  Avhen  you  give 
them  little  thanks  for  it,  and  when  you  have  not 
hearts  to  lament  yourselves. 

Who  is  it  then  that  takes  pleasure  in  your  sin  ? 

1.  The  devil  indeed  takes  pleasure  in  your  sin  and 
death ;  for  this  is  the  very  end  of  all  his  temptations ; 
for  this  he  watches  night  and  day ;  you  cannot  devise 
to  please  him  better  than  to  go  on  in  sin.  How  glad 
is  he  when  he  sees  thee  going  into  the  alehouse,  or 
otlier  sin,  and  when  he  heareth  thee  curse,  or  swear, 
or  rail  ?  How  glad  is  he  when  he  heareth  thee  revile 
the  minister  that  would  draw  thee  from  thy  sin,  and 
help  to  save  thee?     These  are  his  delight. 

2.  The  wicked  are  also  delighted  in  it ;  for  it  is 
agreeable  to  their  nature. 

3.  But  I  know,  for  all  this,  that  it  is  not  the  pleas- 
ing of  the  devil  that  you  intend,  even  when  you  please 
him ;  but  it  is  your  own  fle-sh,  the  greatest  and  most 
dangerous  enemy,  that  you  intend  to  please.  It  is  the 
flesh  that  would  be  pampered,  that  would  be  pleased 


Doct.  4.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  81 

in  meat,  and  drink,  and  clothing ;  that  would  be  pleased 
in  your  company,  and  pleased  in  applause  and  credit 
with  tlie  world,  and  pleased  in  sports,  and  lusts,  and 
idleness ;  this  is  the  gulf  that  devoureth  all.  This  is 
the  very  god  that  you  serve,  for  the  Scripture  saith 
of  such,  that  their  bellies  are  their  gods.  Pliil.  3  :  19. 
But  I  beseech  you  stay  a  little  and  consider  the  bu- 


1.  Question.  Should  your  flesh  be  pleased  before 
your  maker  ?  Will  you  displease  the  Lord,  and  dis- 
please your  teacher,  and  your  godly  friends,  and  all 
to  please  your  brutish  appetites,  or  sensual  desires  ? 
Is  not  God  worthy  to  be  the  ruler  of  your  flesh  ?  If  he 
ehall  not  rule  it,  he  will  not  save  it ;  you  cannot  in 
reason  expect  that  he  should. 

2.  Question.  Your  flesh  is  pleased  with  your  sin , 
but  is  your  conscience  pleased '?  Doth  not  it  grudge 
within  you,  and  tell  you  sometimes  that  all  is  not  well, 
and  that  your  case  is  not  so  safe  as  you  make  it  to  be ; 
and  should  not  your  souls  and  consciences  be  pleased 
before  your  corruptible  flesh? 

3.  Question.  But  is  not  your  flesh  preparing  for  its 
own  displeasure  also  ?  It  loves  the  bait,  but  doth  it 
love  the  hook  ?  It  loves  the  strong  drink  and  sweet 
morsels ;  it  loves  its  ease,  and  sports,  and  merriment ; 
it  loves  to  be  rich,  and  well  spoken  of  by  men,  and  to 
be  somebody  in  the  world  ;  but  doth  it  love  the  curse 
of  God  7  Doth  it  love  to  stand  trembling  before  his 
bar,  and  to  be  judged  to  everlasting  fire?  Doth  it 
love  to  be  tormented  with  the  devils  for  ever  ?  Take 
all  together ;  for  there  is  no  separating  sin  and  hell, 
but  only  by  faith  and  true  conversion ;  if  you  will  keep 
one,  you  must  have  the  other.  If  death  and  hell  be 
pleasant  to  thee,  no  wonder  then  if  you  go  on  in  sin ! 


62  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  5. 

but  if  they  be  not,  (as  I  am  sure  they  are  not,)  then 
what  if  sin  were  never  so  pleasant,  is  it  worth  the  loss 
of  life  eternal  ?  Is  a  little  drink,  or  meat,  or  ease;  is 
the  good  word  of  sinners,  is  the  riches  of  this  world  to 
be  valued  above  the  joys  of  heaven  ?  Or  are  they 
wortli  the  sulferings  of  eternal  fii-e?  Sirs,  these  ques- 
tions should  be  considered  before  you  go  any  further, 
by  every  man  that  hath  reason  to  consider,  and  tliat 
believes  he  hath  a  soul  to  save  or  lose. 

Well,  the  Lord  here  swearelh  that  he  hath  no  plea- 
sure in  your  death,  but  rather  that  you  would  turn 
and  live ;  if  yet  you  wdl  go  on  and  die  rather  than 
turn,  remember  it  was  not  to  please  Grod  that  you  did 
it :  it  was  to  please  the  world,  and  to  please  your- 
selves. And  if  men  will  damn  themselves  to  please 
themselves,  and  run  into  endless  torments  for  delight, 
and  have  not  the  wit,  the  hearts,  the  grace,  to  hearken 
to  God  or  man  that  would  reclaim  them,  what  remedy 
is  there,  but  they  must  take  what  they  get  by  it,  and 
repent  it  in  another  manner,  when  it  is  too  late  ?  Be- 
fore I  proceed  any  further  in  the  application  I  shall 
come  to  the  next  doctrine,  which  gives  me  a  fuller 
ground  for  it. 

DOCTRINE   V. 

•Sb  earnest  is  God  for  the  conversion  of  sinners  that 
he  doubleth  his  commands  and  exhortations^  with 
Tehemency —  Turn  ye,  turn  ye,  why  loill  you  die  7 

This  doctrine  is  the  application  of  the  former,  aa 
by  a  use  of  exhortation,  and  accordingly  I  shall  han- 
dle it.  Is  there  an  unconverted  sinner  that  heareth 
these  vehement  words  of  God  ?  Is  there  a  man  or 
woman  in  this  assembly  that  is  yet  a  stranger  to  the 


Doct.  5.  THE    UNCONVERTED.  83 

reneAving  sanctiiying  work  of  the  Holy  Ghost  ?  It  is 
a  happy .  assembly,  if  it  be  not  so  with  the  most. 
Hearken  then  to  the  voice  of  your  Maker,  and  turn  to 
Jiim  by  Christ  without  delay.  Would  you  know  the 
will  of  God  7  Why  this  is  his  will,  that  you  presently 
turn.  Shall  the  living  God  send  so  earnest  a  message 
to  his  creatures,  and  should  they  not  obey  7 

Hearken  then,  all  you  that  live  after  the  flesh ;  the 
Lord  that  gave  thee  thy  breath  and  being  hath  sent 
a  message  to  thee  from  heaven  ;  and  this  is  his  mes- 
sage. Turn  ye^  turn  ye,  why  wiU  ye  die?  He  that 
hath  ears  to  hear,  let  him  hear.  Shall  the  voice  of 
the  eternal  Majesty  be  neglected?  If  he  do  but  ter- 
ribly thunder,  thou  art  afraid.  O  but  this  voice  doth 
more  nearly  concern  thee.  If  he  did  but  tell  thee  thou 
shalt  die  to-morrow,  thou  wouldst  not  make  light  of 
it.  O  but  this  w^ord  concerneth  thy  life  or  death  ever- 
lasting. It  is  both  a  command  and  an  exhortation. 
As  if  he  had  said  to  thee,  "  I  charge  thee,  upon  the 
allegiance  that  thou  owest  to  me  thy  Creator  and 
Redeemer,  that  thou  renounce  the  flesh,  the  world, 
and  the  devil,  and  turn  to  me,  that  thou  mayest  live. 
I  condescend  to  entreat  thee,  as  thou  either  lovest  or 
fearest  him  that  made  thee ;  as  thou  lovest  thine  own 
life,  even  thine  everlasting  life,  turn  and  live  :  as  ever 
thou  w^ouldst  escape  eternal  misery,  turn,  turn,  for 
why  wilt  thou  die  ?"  And  is  there  a  heart  in  man, 
in  a  reasonable  creature,  that  can  once  refuse  such  a 
message,  such  a  conmiand,  such  an  exhortation  as 
this?    O  what  a  thing,  then,  is  the  heart  of  man  ! 

Hearken,  then,  all  that  love  yourselves,  and  all  that 
regard  your  own  salvation ;  here  is  the  most  joyfu! 
message  that  was  ever  sent  to  the  ears  of  man, 
"  Tur7i  ?/e,  turn  ye,  why  will  ye  die?-'    You  are  not 


84  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  3. 

yet.  shut  up  under  desperation.  Here  is  mercy  offered 
you ;  turn,  and  you  shall  have  it.  O  Sirs !  with  what 
glad  and  joyful  hearts  should  you  receive  these  tid- 
ings !  I  know  this  is  not  the  first  time  that  you  have 
heard  it;  but  how  have  you  regarded  it,  or  how  do 
you  regard  it  now?  Hear,  all  you  ignorant,  careless 
sinners,  the  word  of  the  Lord.  Hear,  all  you  world- 
lings, you  sensual  flesh-pleasers;  you  gluttons,  and 
drunkards,  and  whoremongers,  and  swearers;  you 
railers  and  backbiters,  slanderers  and  liars —  Turn  ye, 
turn  2/e,  lohy  will  ye  die  ? 

Hear,  all  you  cold  and  outside  professors,  and  all 
that  are  strangers  to  the  life  of  Christ,  and  never  knew 
the  power  of  his  cross  and  resurrection,  and  never  felt 
your  hearts  warmed  with  his  love,  and  live  not  on 
him  as  the  strength  of  your  souls — "  Turn  ye,  turn  ye, 
why  will  ye  die?" 

Hear,  all  that  are  void  of  the  love  of  God,  whose 
hearts  are  not  toward  him,  nor  taken  up  with  the 
hopes  of  glory,  but  set  more  by  your  earthly  prospe- 
rity and  delights  than  by  the  joys  of  heaven ;  all  you 
that  are  religious  but  a  little-by-the-by,  and  give  God 
no  more  than  your  flesh  can  spare;  that  have  not  de- 
nied your  carnal  selves,  and  forsaken  all  that  you  have 
for  Christ,  m  the  estimation  and  grounded  resolution 
of  your  souls,  but  have  some  one  thing  in  the  world 
so  dear  to  you  that  you  cannot  spare  it  for  Christ,  if 
he  required  it,  but  will  rather  venture  on  his  displea- 
sure than  forsake  it — "  Turn  ye,  turn  ye,  why  will 
ye  die?" 

If  you  never  heard  it,  or  observed  it  before,  remem- 
ber that  you  were  told  from  the  word  of  God  this  day, 
that  if  you  will  but  turn,  you  may  live;  and  if  you 
will  no*  turn,  yo'J  shall  surely  die. 


Doct.  5.  THE    UNCONVERTED.  85 

What  now  will  you  do,  sirs '?  What  is  your  reso- 
lution? Will  you  turn,  or  will  you  not?  Halt  not 
any  longer  between  two  opinions.  If  the  Lord  bo 
God,  foUoAV  him  :  if  your  flesh  be  God,  then  serve  it 
still.  If  heaven  be  better  than  earth  and  fleshly  plea- 
sures, come  away,  then,  and  seek  a  better  country, 
and  lay  up  your  treasure  where  rust  and  moths  do 
not  corrupt,  and  thieves  cannot  break  through  and 
steal ;  and  be  awakened  at  last,  with  all  your  might, 
to  seek  the  kingdom  that  cannot  be  moved,  (Heb. 
12  :  28,)  and  to  employ  your  lives  on  a  higher  design, 
and  turn  the  stream  of  your  cares  and  labors  another 
way  than  formerly  you  have  done.  But  if  earth  be 
better  than  heaven,  or  will  do  more  for  you,  or  last 
you  longer,  then  keep  it,  and  make  your  best  of  it,  and 
follow  it  still.  Sirs,  are  you  resolved  what  to  do  ?  If 
you  be  not,  I  will  set  a  few  more  moving  considera- 
tions before  you,  to  see  if  reason  will  make  you  resolve. 

Consider,  I.  What  preparations  mercy  hath  made 
for  your  salvation ;  and  what  pity  it  is  that  any  man 
should  be  damned  after  all  this.  The  time  was,  when 
the  flaming  sword  was  in  the  way,  and  the  curse  of 
God's  law  would  have  kept  thee  back  if  thou  hadst 
been  never  so  v/illing  to  turn  to  God.  The  time  was, 
when  thyself,  and  all  the  friends  that  thou  hast  in  the 
world,  could  never  have  produced  thee  the  pardon  of 
thy  sins  past,  though  thou  hadst  never  so  much  la- 
mented and  reformed  them.  But  Christ  hath  removed 
^his  impediment,  by  the  raasom  of  his  blood.  The 
time  was,  that  God  was  wholly  unreconciled,  as  be- 
ing not  satisfied  for  the  violation  of  his  law  ;  but  now 
he  is  so  far  satisfied  and  reconciled,  as  that  he  hath 
made  thee  a  free  act  of  oblivion,  and  a  free  deed  of 
gift  of  Christ  and  life,  and  ofiereth  it  to  thee,  and  en- 


86  A    CALL    TO  Do'^'-  ^• 

treateth  thee  to  accept  it ;  and  it  may  be  tliiiie,  if  thou 
wilt.  For,  "  he  was  in  Christ  reconciUng  the  world 
to  himself,  and  hath  committed  to  us  the  word  of  re- 
conciliation." 2  Cor.  5  :  18,  ID.  Sinners,  we  too  are 
commanded  to  deliver  this  message  to  you  all,  as  from 
the  Lord;  "  Come,  for  all  things  are  ready."  Luke, 
14  :  17.  Are  all  things  ready,  and  are  you  unready  1 
God  is  ready  to  entertain  you.  and  pardon  all  that 
you  have  done  against  him,  if  you  will  but  come.  As 
long  as  you  have  sinned,  as  wilfully  as  you  have  sin- 
ned, he  is  ready  to  cast  all  behind  his  back,  if  you 
will  but  come.  Though  you  have  been  prodigals, 
and  run  away  from  God,  and  have  staid  so  long,  lie 
is  ready  even  to  meet  you,  and  embrace  you  in  his 
arms,  and  rejoice  in  your  conversion,  if  you  will  but 
turn.  Even  the  worldlings  and  drunkards  will  find 
God  ready  to  bid  them  welcome,  if  they  will  but  come. 
Dotli  not  this  turn  thy  heart  within  thee ?  O  sinner! 
if  thou  hast  a  heart  of  flesh,  and  not  of  stone  in  thee, 
methinks  this  should  melt  it.  Shall  the  dreadful  in- 
finite Majesty  of  heaven  even  wait  for  thy  returning, 
and  be  ready  to  receive  thee,  who  hast  abused  him, 
and  forgotten  him  so  long  ?  Shall  he  delight  in  thy 
conversion,  that  might  at  any  time  glorify  his  justice 
:n  thy  damnation  ?  and  yet  doth  it  not  melt  thy  jieart 
within  thee,  and  art  tliou  not  yet  ready  to  come  in  ? 
Hast  thou  not  as  much  reason  to  be  ready  to  come  as 
God  hath  to  invite  thee  and  bid  thee  welcome  ? 

But  that  is  not  all :  Christ  hath  died  on  the  cross, 
and  made  such  way  for  thee  to  the  Father,  that,  on 
his  account,  thou  mayest  be  welcome,  if  thou  wilt 
come.     i\.nd  yet  art  thou  not  ready  ? 

A  pardon  is  already  expressly  granted,  and  offered 
thee  in  the  Gospel.     And  yet  art  thou  not  ready? 


Doct.  5.  THE    UNCONVERTED.  87 

The  ministers  of  the  Gospel  are  ready  to  assist  thee, 
to  instruct  thee,  pray  for  thee.  And  yet  art  thou  not 
ready  ? 

All  that  fear  God  about  thee  are  ready  to  rejoice 
in  thy  conversion,  and  to  receive  thee  into  the  com 
munion  of  saints,  and  to  give  thee  the  right  hand  of 
fellowship,  yea,  though  thou  hadst  been  one  that  had 
been  cast  out  of  their  society :  they  dare  not  but  forgive 
where  God  forgiveth,  when  it  is  manifest  to  them,  by 
thy  confession  and  amendment ;  they  dare  not  so  much 
as  reproach  thee  with  thy  former  sins,  because  they 
know  that  God  will  not  upbraid  tliee  with  them.  If 
thou  hadst  been  never  so  scandalous,  if  thou  wouldst 
but  heartily  be  converted  and  come  in,  they  would 
not  refuse  thee,  let  the  world  say  what  they  would 
against  it.  And  are  all  these  ready  to  receive  thee, 
and  yet  art  thou  not  ready  to  come  in  7 

Yea,  heaven  itself  is  ready  :  The  Lord  will  receive 
thee  into  the  glory  of  his  saints.  Vile  as  thou  hast 
been,  if  thou  wilt  be  but  cleansed  thou  mayest  have 
a  place  before  his  throne ;  his  angels  will  be  ready  to 
guard  thy  soul  to  the  place  of  joy  if  thou  do  but  un- 
feignedly  come  in.  And  is  God  ready,  the  sacrifice 
of  Christ  ready,  the  promise  ready,  and  pardon  ready  ? 
are  ministers  ready,  and  the  people  of  God  ready,  and 
heaven  itself  ready  ?  and  angels  ready  ?  and  all  these 
but  waiting  for  thy  conversion ;  and  yet  art  thou  not 
ready  ?  What !  not  ready  to  live,  when  thou  hast 
been  dead  so  long  ?  not  ready  to  come  to  thy  right 
understanding,  as  the  prodigal  is  said  to  "  come  to 
himself,"  (Luke,  15  :  17,)  when  thou  hast  been  beside 
thyself  so  long?  Not  ready  to  be  saved,  when  thou 
art  even  ready  to  be  condemned  ?  Art  thou  not  ready 
to  lay  hold  on  Christ,  that  would  deliver  thee,  when 


88  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  5 

thou  art  even  ready  to  sink  into  damnation  ?  Art  tlrou 
not  ready  to  be  drawn  from  liell,  when  thou  art  even 
ready  to  be  cast  remediless  inio  it  ?  Alas,  man !  dost 
thou  know  what  thou  doest  ?  If  thou  die  unconverted 
there  is  no  doubt  to  be  made  of  thy  damnation  ;  and 
thou  art  not  i?ure  to  live  an  hour.  And  yet  art  thou 
not  ready  to  turn  and  to  come  in?  O  miserable 
wretch  !  Hast  thou  not  served  the  flesh  and  the  devil 
long  enough?  Yet  hast  thou  not  enough  of  sin?  Is 
it  so  good  to  thee,  or  so  profitable  for  thee  ?  Dost  thou 
know  what  it  is,  that  thou  wouldst  yet  have  more  of 
it  ?  Hast  thou  had  so  many  calls,  and  so  many  mer- 
cies, and  so  many  warnings,  and  so  many  examples  ? 
Hast  thou  seen  so  many  laid  in  the  grave,  and  yet 
art  tJiou  not  ready  to  let  go  thy  sins,  and  come  to 
Christ  ?  What !  after  so  many  convictions  and  pangs 
of  conscience,  after  so  many  purposes  and  promises, 
art  thou  not  yet  ready  to  turn  and  live  ?  O  that  thy 
eyes,  thy  heart,  were  opened  to  know  how  fair  an  offer 
is  now  made  to  thee  !  and  what  a  joyful  message  it  is 
that  we  are  sent  on,  to  bid  thee  come,  for  all  things 
are  ready ! 

II.  Consider  also,  what  calls  thou  hast  to  turn  and 
live.  How  many,  how  loud,  how  earnest,  how  dread- 
ful :  and  yet  what  encouraging,  joyful  calls  !  For  the 
principal  inviter  is  God  himself.  He  that  command- 
eth  heaven  and  earth,  commands  thee  to  turn,  and 
that  presently,  without  delay.  He  commands  the 
sun  to  run  its  course,  and  to  rise  upon  thee  every 
morning ;  and  though  it  be  so  glorious  an  orb,  and 
many  times  bigger  than  all  the  earth,  yet  it  obeyetb 
him,  and  faileth  not  one  minute  of  its  appointed  time. 
He  commandeth  all  the  planets,  and  the  orbs  of  hea- 
ven, and  they  obe}'.    He  commajideth  the  sea  to  ebb 


Doct  5.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  89 

and  flow,  and  the  whole  creation  to  keep  its  course, 
and  all  obey  him  ;  the  angels  of  heaven  obey  his  will, 
when  he  sends  them  to  minister  to  such  worms  as  we 
on  earth,  (Heb.  1  :  14;)  and  yet  if  he  command  but 
a  simier  to  turn,  he  will  not  obey  him.  He  only  thinlcs 
himself  wiser  than  God,  and  he  cavils  and  pleads  the 
cause  of  sin,  and  will  not  obey.  If  the  Lord  Almighty 
say  the  word,  the  heavens  and  all  therein  obey  him: 
but  if  he  call  but  a  drunkard  out  of  an  ale-house,  he 
will  not  obey  :  or  if  he  call  a  worldly  fleshly  sinner  to 
deny  himself,  and  mortify  the  flesh,  and  set  his  heart 
upon  a  better  inheritance,  he  will  not  obey. 

If  thou  hadst  any  love  in  thee,  thou  wouldst  know 
tlie  voice,  and  say,  O  this  is  my  Father's  call !  how 
can  I  find  in  my  heart  to  disobey  ?  For  the  sheep  of 
Christ  "  know  and  hear  his  voice,  and  they  follow 
him,  and  he  giveth  them  eternal  life."  John,  10  :  4. 
If  thou  hadst  any  spiritual  life  and  sense  in  thee,  at 
least  thou  wouldst  say,  "  This  call  is  the  dreadfiil 
voice  of  God,  and  who  dare  disobey?  For  saith  the 
prophet,  (Amos,  3  :  8,)  "  The  lion  hath  roared,  who 
will  not  fear  ?"  God  is  not  a  man,  that  thou  shouldst 
dally  and  trifle  with  him.  Remember  what  he  said 
to  Paul  at  his  conversion,  "  It  is  hard  for  thee  to 
kick  agahist  the  pricks. ^^  Acts,  9  :  5.  Wilt  thou  yet 
go  on  and  despise  his  word,  and  resist  his  Spirit,  and 
stop  thine  ear  against  his  call  7  who  is  it  that  will 
have  the  worst  of  this  ?  Dost  thou  know  whom  thou 
disobeyest,  and  contendest  with,  and  what  thou  art 
doing  ?  It  were  a  far  wiser  and  easier  task  for  thee  to 
contend  with  the  thorns,  and  spurn  them  with  thy 
bare  feet,  and  beat  them  with  thy  bare  hands,  or  put 
thine  head  into  the  burning  fire.  "  Be  not  deceived, 
God  will  not  be  mocked."  Gal.  6  :  7.     Whoever  else 


90  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  5 

be  mocked,  Goil  will  not :  you  had  belter  play  with 
the  fire  in  your  liiatch,  than  with  the  fire  of  his  burn- 
ing wrath.  "  For  our  God  is  a  consuming  fire."  Heb. 
12  :  29.  O  how  unmeet  a  match  art  thou  for  God  ! 
"  It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into  his  hands."  Heb. 
10  :  31.  And  therefore  it  is  a  fearful  thing  to  contend 
with  him,  or  resist  him.  As  you  love  your  own  souls, 
take  heed  what  you  do :  what  will  you  say  if  he  begin 
in  wrath  to  plead  with  you  ?  What  will  you  do  if  he 
take  you  once  in  hand?  will  you  then  strive  against 
liis  judgment,  as  now  ye  do  against  his  grace  ?  Isa. 
27  :  4,  5.  "  Fury  is  not  in  me ;"  saitli  the  Lord :  (that 
is)  I  delight  not  to  destroy  you :  I  do  it,  as  it  were  un- 
willingly ;  but  yet  "  who  will  set  the  briers  and  thorns 
against  me  in  battle?  I  would  go  through  them,  I 
would,  burn  them  togethe?\  Or  let  him  take  hold  of 
my  strength,  that  he  may  make  peace  with  me."  It  is 
an  unequal  combat  for  the  briers  and  stubble  to  make 
war  with  the  fire. 

And  thus  you  see  who  it  is  that  calleth  you,  that 
would  move  you  to  hear  his  call,  and  turn :  so  con 
sider  also  by  what  instruments,  and  how  often,  and 
how  earnestly  he  doth  it. 

1.  Every  leaf  of  the  blessed  book  of  God  hath,  as  it 
were,  a  voice,  and  calls  out  to  thee.  Turn,  and  live ; 
turn,  or  thou  wilt  die.  How  canst  thou  open  it,  and 
read  a  leaf,  or  hear  a  chapter,  and  not  perceive  God 
bids  thee  turn  ? 

2.  It  is  the  voice  of  every  sermon  that  thou  heareat : 
for  what  else  is  the  scope  and  drift  of  all,  but  to  call, 
and  persuade,  and  entreat  thee  to  turn. 

3.  It  is  the  voice  of  many  a  motion  of  the  Spirit  that 
secretly  speaks  over  these  words  again,  and  urgeth 
thee  to  turn. 


Doct.  5.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  91 

4.  It  is  likely,  sometimes  it  is  the  voice  of  thy  ovvrn 
conscience.  Art  thou  not  sometimes  convinced  that 
all  is  not  well  with  thee?  And  doth  not  thy  con- 
science tell  thee  that  thou  must  be  a  new  man,  and 
take  a  new  course,  and  often  call  upon  thee  to  return  ? 

5.  It  is  the  voice  of  the  gracious  examples  of  the 
godly.  When  thou  seest  them  live  a  heavenly  life, 
and  fly  from  the  sin  which  is  thy  delight,  this  really 
calls  on  thee  to  tum. 

6.  It  is  the  voice  of  all  the  works  of  God :  for  they 
also  are  God's  books  that  teach  thee  this  lesson,  by 
showing  thee  his  greatness,  and  wisdom,  and  good- 
ness ;  and  calling  thee  to  observe  them,  and  admire 
the  Creator.  Psalm  19  :  1,  2.  "  The  heavens  declare 
the  glory  of  God,  and  the  firmament  showeth  his 
liandy  work :  day  unto  day  uttereth  speech,  night 
\mto  night  showeth  knowledge."  Ever}'  time  the  sun 
fiseth  unto  thee,  it  really  calleth  thee  to  turn,  as  if  it 
should  say,  "  What  do  I  travel  and  compass  the  world 
for,  but  to  declare  to  men  the  glory  of  their  Maker, 
and  to  light  them  to  do  his  work  ?  And  do  I  still  find 
thee  doing  the  work  of  sin,  and  sleeping  out  thy  life 
in  negligence?  Awake  thou  that  sleepest,  and  arise 
from  the  dead,  and  Christ  shall  give  thee  light." 
Ephes.  5  :  14.  "  The  night  is  far  spent,  the  day  is 
at  hand ;  it  is  now  high  time  to  awake  out  of  sleep. 
Let  us  therefore  cast  off  the  works  of  darkness,  and  let 
us  put  on  the  armor  of  light.  Let  us  walk  honestly 
as  in  the  day,  not  in  rioting  and  drunkenness,  not  in 
chambering  and  wantonness,  not  in  strife  and  envy- 
ing, but  put  ye  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  make 
not  provision  for  the  flesh,  to  fulfil  the  lusts  thereof." 
Rom.  13  :  11,  14.  This  text  was  the  means  of  Aus- 
tin's conversion. 


92  A  CALL  TO  Doct-  3- 

7.  It  is  the  voice  of  every  mercy  thou  dost  possess ; 
if  thou  couitlst  but  hear  and  understand  them,  they 
all  cry  out  unto  thee,  Turn.  Why  doth  ihe  earth 
bear  tliee,  but  to  seek  and  serve  the  Lord  ?  Why 
doth  it  afford  thee  its  fruits,  but  to  serve  him  ?  W^hy 
doth  the  air  afford  thee  breath,  but  to  serve  him? 
Why  do  all  the  creatures  serve  thee  with  their  labors 
and  their  hves,  but  that  thou  mightest  serve  the  Lord 
of  them  and  thee  ?  Why  doth  he  give  thee  time, 
and  health,  and  strength,  but  only  to  serve  him? 
Why  hast  thou  meat,  and  drink,  and  clothes,  but  for 
his  service  ?  Hast  thou  any  thing  which  thou  hast 
not  received  ?  and  if  thou  didst  receive  them,  it  is  rea- 
son thou  shouldst  bethink  thee  from  whom,  and  to 
what  end  and  use  thou  didst  receive  them.  Didst 
thou  never  cry  to  him  for  help  in  thy  distress,  and 
didst  thou  not  then  understand  that  it  was  thy  part  to 
turn  and  serve  him,  if  he  would  deliver  thee  ?  He 
hath  done  his  part,  and  spared  thee  yet  longer,  and 
,  tried  thee  another,  and  another  year ;  and  yet  dost 
thou  not  turn  ?  You  know  the  parable  of  the  unfruit- 
ful fig-tree,  Luke,  13  :  7,  9.  When  the  Lord  had 
said,  "  Cut  it  down,  why  cumbereth  it  the  ground  ?" 
he  was  entreated  to  try  it  one  year  longer,  and  then 
if  it  proved  not  fruitful,  to  cut  it  down.  Christ  himself 
there  makes  the  application  twice  over,  (ver.  3  and 
5.)  "  Except  ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise  perish." 
How  many  years  hath  Grod  looked  for  the  fruits  of 
love  and  holiness  from  thee,  and  hath  found  none,  and 
yet  he  hath  spared  thee  ?  How  many  a  time,  by  thy 
wilful  ignorance,  and  carelessness,  and  disobedience, 
hast  thou  provoked  justice  to  say,  "  Cut  him  down, 
why  cumbereth  he  the  ground?"  And  yet  mercy 
hath  prevailed,  and  patience  hath  forborne  the  fatal 


Doct.  5.  THE    UNCONVERTED.  93 

blow,  to  this  day.  If  thou  hadst  the  understanding 
of  a  man  within  thee,  thou  Avouldst  know  that  all  this 
calleth  thee  to  turn.  "  Dost  thou  think  thou  shall 
etill  escape  the  judgment  of  God?  or  despisest  thou 
the  riches  of  his  goodness,  and  forbearance,  and  long- 
suffering?  not  knowing  that  the  goodness  of  God 
leadeth  thee  to  repentance.  But.  after  thy  hardness 
and  impenitent  heart,  treasured  up  unto  thyself  wrath 
against  the  day  of  wrath,  and  revelation  of  the  righte- 
ous judgment  of  God,  who  w411  render  to  every  man 
according  to  his  deeds."  Rom.  2  :  3,  6. 

8.  Moreover,  it  is  the  voice  of  every  affliction  to  call 
thee  to  make  haste  and  turn.  Sickness  and  pain  cry, 
Turn :  and  poverty,  and  loss  of  friends,  and  every 
twig  of  the  chastening  rod,  cry.  Turn.  And  yet  wilt 
thou  not  hearken  to  the  call  ?  These  have  come  near 
thee,  and  made  thee  feel;  they  have  made  thee 
groan,  and  can  they  not  make  thee  turn  ? 

9.  The  very  frame  of  thy  nature  and  being  itself, 
bespeaketh  thy  return.  Why  hast  thou  reason,  but  to 
rule  thy  flesh,  and  serve  thy  Lord  ?  Why  hast  thou 
an  understanding  soul,  but  to  learn  and  know  his  will 
and  do  it  ?  Why  hast  thou  a  heart  within  thee  that 
can  love,  and  fear,  and  desire,  but  that  thou  shouldst 
fear  him,  and  love  him,  and  desire  after  him? 

Lay  all  these  together  now,  and  see  what  should 
be  the  issue.  The  holy  Scriptures  call  upon  thee  to 
turn ;  the  ministers  of  Christ  call  upon  thee  to  turn ; 
the  Spirit  cries,  Turn;  thy  conscience  cries.  Turn; 
the  godly,  by  persuasions  and  example  cry.  Turn ; 
the  whole  world,  and  all  the  creatures  therein  that 
are  presented  to  thy  consideration  cry,  Turn ;  the  pa- 
tient forbearance  of  God  cries,  Turn ;  all  the  mercies 
which  thou  receivest  cry,  Turn ;  the  rod  of  God's 


94  A    CALL   TO  Doct.  5. 

chaslisement  cries  Turn;  thy  reason  and  tlie  frame  of 
thy  nature  bespeaks  thy  turning ;  and  so  do  all  thy 
promises  to  God ;  and  yet  art  thou  not  resolved  to 
turn  7 

111.  Moreover,  poor  hard-hearted  sinner,  didst  thou 
ever  consider  upon  what  terms  tliou  standest  all  thia 
while  with  Him  that  calleth  on  thee  to  turn?  Thou 
art  his  own,  and  owest  him  thyself,  and  all  thou  hast , 
and  may  he  not  command  his  OAvn?  Thou  art  hia 
absolute  servant,  and  shouldst  serve  no  other  master. 
Thou  standest  at  his  mercy,  and  thy  life  is  in  hia 
hand,  and  he  is  resolved  to  save  thee  ujwn  no  other 
terms;  thou  hast  many  malicious  spiritual  enemies 
that  would  be  glad  if  God  Avould  but  foreake  thee, 
and  let  them  alone  with  thee,  and  leave  thee  to  their 
will ;  how  quickly  would  they  deal  with  thee  in  an- 
other manner !  and  thou  canst  not  be  delivered  from 
them  but  by  turning  unto  God.  Thou  art  fallen  un- 
der his  wrath  by  thy  sin  already ;  and  thou  knowest 
not  how  long  his  patience  will  yet  wait.  Perhaps  this 
is  the  last  year,  perhaps  the  last  day.  His  sword  is 
even  at  thy  heart  while  the  word  is  in  thine  ear; 
and  if  thou  turn  not,  thou  art  a  dead  and  undone 
man.  Were  thy  eyes  but  open  to  see  where  thou 
standest,  even  upon  the  brink  of  hell,  and  to  see  how 
many  thousands  are  there  already  that  did  not  turn, 
thou  wouldst  see  that  it  is  time  to  look  about  thee. 

Well,  sirs,  look  inwards  now  and  tell  me  how  your 
hearts  are  affected  with  those  offers  of  the  Lord.  You 
hear  what  is  his  mind :  he  delighteth  not  in  your 
death  ;  he  calls  to  you,  Turn,  turn  :  it  is  a  fearful  sign 
if  all  this  move  thee  not,  or  if  it  do  but  half  move  thee ; 
and  much  more  if  it  make  thee  more  careless  in  thy 
miser}^,  because  thou  hearest  of  the  mercifulness  of 


Doct.  5.  THE    CXCONVKRTED.  95 

God.  The  working  of  the  medicine  will  partly  teli 
us  whether  there  be  any  hope  of  the  cure.  O  what 
glad  tidings  would  it  be  to  those  that  are  now  in  hell, 
if  they  had  but  such  a  message  from  God !  What  a 
io}'ful  word  would  it  be  to  hear  this,  Turn  and  live  ! 
Yea,  what  a  welcome  word  would  it  be  to  thyself, 
vrhen  thou  hast  felt  that  wrath  of  God  but  an  hour ! 
Or,  if  after  a  thousand  or  ten  thousand  years'  torment, 
thou  couldst  but  hear  such  a  word  from  God,  Turn 
and  live;  and  yet  wilt  thou  neglect  it,  and  suffer  ua 
to  return  without  our  errand  ? 

Behold,  sinners,  we  are  sent  here  as  the  messengers 
cf  the  Lord,  to  set  before  you  life  and  death.  What 
say  you  ?  wliich  of  them  will  you  choose  ?  Christ 
standeth,  as  it  were,  by  thee,  with  heaven  in  the  one 
hand,  and  hell  in  the  other,  and  offereth  thee  thy 
choice.  Which  wilt  thou  choose  ?  The  voice  of  the 
Lord  maketh  the  roclvs  to  tremble.  Psalm  29.  And  is 
it  nothing  to  hear  liim  threaten  thee,  if  thou  wilt  not 
turn  ?  Dost  thou  not  understand  and  feel  this  voice, 
"  Turn  ye,  turn  ye,  why  will  ye  die  V  Why  ?  It  is 
the  voice  of  love,  of  infinite  love,  of  thy  best  and  kindest 
friend,  as  thou  mightest  easily  perceive  by  the  motion ; 
and  yet  canst  thou  neglect  it '?  It  is  the  voice  of  pity 
and  compassion.  The  Lord  seeth  whither  thou  art 
going  better  than  thou  dost,  which  makes  him  call 
atler  thee.  Turn,  turn.  He  seeth  what  will  become 
of  thee,  if  thou  turn  not.  He  thinketh  with  himself, 
"  Ah !  tliis  poor  siimer  will  cast  himself  into  endless 
torments  if  he  do  not  turn.  I  must  in  justice  deal  with 
him  according  to  my  righteous  law."'  And  therefore 
he  calleth  after  thee,  Tarn,  turn.  O  sinner !  If  thou 
didst  but  know  the  thousandth  part,  as  well  as  God 
dothj  the  danger  that  is  near  you,  and  the  misery 


08  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  B. 

that  you  are  running  into,  we  .should  have  no  more 
necil  to  call  after  you  to  turn. 

Moreover,  this  voice  that  calleth  to  thee  is  the  same 
that  hath  prevailed  with  thousands  already,  and  called 
all  to  heaven  that  are  now  there ;  and  they  would  not 
now  for  a  thousand  worlds  that  they  had  made  light 
of  it,  and  not  turned  to  God.  Now,  what  are  they 
possessing  that  turned  at  God's  call '?  Now  they  per- 
ceive that  it  was  indeed  the  \T)ice  of  love,  that  meant 
them  no  more  harm  than  their  salvation ;  and  if  thou 
wilt  obey  the  same  call  thou  shalt  come  to  the  same 
happiness.  There  are  millions  that  must  for  ever  la- 
ment that  they  turned  not ;  but  there  is  never  a  soul 
in  heaven  that  is  sorry  that  they  were  converted. 

Well,  sirs,  are  you  yet  resolved,  or  are  you  not '? 
Do  I  need  to  say  any  more  to  you  ?  What  will  you 
do?  Will  you  turn  or  not  ?  Speak,  man,  in  thy  heart, 
to  God,  though  you  speak  not  out  to  me ;  speak,  lest 
he  take  thy  silence  for  denial;  speak  quickly,  lest  he 
never  make  thee  the  like  ofier  more ;  speak  resolvedly, 
and  not  waveringly,  for  he  will  have  no  indifferent.s 
to  be  his  followers.  Say  in  thine  heart  now,  without 
any  more  delay,  even  before  thou  stir  hence,  "  By  the 
grace  of  God  I  am  resolved  presently  to  turn.  And 
because  I  know  my  own  insufficiency,  I  am  resolved 
to  wait  on  God  for  his  grace,  and  to  follow  him  in  his 
ways,  and  forsake  my  former  courses  and  companions 
and  give  up  myself  to  the  guidance  of  the  Lord." 

Sirs,  you  are  not  shut  up  in  the  darkness  of  hea- 
thenism, nor  in  the  desperation  of  the  damned.  Life 
is  before  you,  and  you  may  have  it  on  rea.-onable 
terms,  if  you  will ;  yea,  on  free  cost,  if  you  will  accept 
it.  The  way  of  God  lieth  plain  before  you ;  the  church 
is  open  to  you.     Yon  may  have  Christ,  and  pardon, 


Doct.  6.  TH^-     TT^'CONVERTED.  97 

and  holinessj  if  you  will.  What  say  you  ?  Will  you 
or  will  you  not '?  If  you  say  nay,  or  say  nothing,  and 
still  go  on,  God  is  witness,  and  this  congregation  id 
witness,  ana  your  own  consciences  are  witnesses,  how 
fair  an  offer  you  had  this  day.  Remember,  you  might 
have  had  Christ,  and  would  not.  Remember,  when 
you  have  lost  it,  that  you  might  have  had  eternal  life, 
as  well  as  others,  and  would  not ;  and  all  because  you 
would  not  turn ! 

But  let  us  come  to  the  next  doctrine,  and  hear  your 
-easons. 


DOCTRINE  VI. 

The  Lord  condescendeih  to  reason  the  case  with 
unconverted  sinners,  and  to  ask  them  why  they 
will  die. 

A  strange  disputation  it  is,  both  as  to  the  contro- 
versy and  as  to  the  disputants. 

I.  The  controversy,  gr  question  propounded  to  dis- 
pute of  is,  Why  wicked  men  will  destroy  themselves'? 
or.  Why  they  Avill  rather  die  than  turn;  whether 
they  have  any  sufficient  reason  for  so  doing  ? 

II.  The  disputants  are  God  and  man :  the  most 
hoi}''  God,  and  wicked  unconverted  sinners. 

Is  it  not  a  strange  thing,  which  God  doth  here  seem 
t?  suppose,  that  any  man  should  be  willing  to  die  and 
be  i-amned?  yea,  that  this  should  be  the  case  of  the 
wicked  ?  that  is,  of  the  greatest  part  of  the  world.  But 
you  will  say,  "  This  cannot  be ;  lor  nature  desiretii 
the  preservation  and  felicity  of  itself;  and  the  wicked 
are  more  selfish  than  others,  and  not  less;  and  there- 
fore how  can  any  man  be  willing  to  be  damned  ?" 

To  which  I  answer :— 1.  It  is  a  certain  truth  that 
9 


08  A    CALL    TO  Doct.  6 

no  man  can  be  willing  to  bear  any  evil,  aa  evil,  but 
only  as  it  hath  some  appearance  of  good ;  much  leas 
can  any  man  be  willing  to  be  eternally  tormented. 
Misery,  as  such,  is  desired  by  none.  2.  But  yet  for 
all  that,  it  is  most  true  which  God  here  teacheth  us, 
that  the  cause  Avhy  the  wicked  die  is,  because  tliey 
will  die.     And  this  is  true  in  several  respects. 

1.  Because  they  will  go  the  w?y  that  leads  to  hell, 
although  they  are  told  by  God  and  man  whither  it 
goes  and  whither  it  ends ;  and  though  God  hath  so 
often  professed  in  his  word,  that  if  they  hold  on  in 
that  way  they  shall  be  condenmed ;  and  that  they 
shall  not  be  saved  unless  they  turn.  Isa.  48  :  22 ;  57  : 
21 ;  59  :  8,  "  There  is  no  peace,  saith  the  Lord,  to  the 
wicked."  "  The  way  of  peace  they  know  not ;  tliere 
is  no  judgm.ent  in  their  goings ;  they  have  made  them 
crooked  paths.  Whosoever  goeth  therein  shall  not 
know  peace."  They  liave  the  word  and  the  oath  of 
the  living  God  for  it,  that  if  they  will  not  turn  they 
shall  not  enter  into  his  rest :  and  yet,  wicked  they  are, 
and  wicked  they  will  be,  let  God  and  man  say  what 
they  w^ill :  fleshly  they  are,  and  fleshly  they  will  be, 
worldlings  they  are,  and  w^orldlings  they  will  be, 
though  God  hath  told  them  that  the  love  of  the  world 
is  enmity  to  God,  and  that  if  any  man  love  the  world 
(in  that  measure)  the  love  of  the  Father  is  not  in  him. 
James,  4:4;  1  John,  2  :  15.  So  that,  consequently, 
these  men  are  willing  to  be  damned,  though  not  di- 
rectly ;  tliey  are  willing  to  Avalk  in  the  way  to  hell, 
and  love  the  certain  cause  of  their  torment ;  though 
they  do  not  will  hell  itself,  and  do  not  love  the  pain 
which  they  m\]st  endure. 

Is  not  this  the  tmth  of  your  case  sirs  ?   You  would 
not  burn  in  hell,  but  you  Avill  kindle  the  fire  by  your 


Doct.  6.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  99 

sins,  and  cast  yourselves  into  it ;  you  would  not  be 
tormented  with  devils  for  ever,  but  you  will  do  that 
Avhich  will  certainly  procure  it  in  spite  of  all  that  can 
be  said  against  it.  It  is  just  as  if  you  would  say,  "  I 
will  drink  this  poison,  but  yet  I  will  not  die.  I  will 
cast  myself  headlong  from  the  top  of  a  steeple,  but  yet 
1  will  not  kill  myself  I  will  thrust  this  knife  into  my 
heart,  but  yet  I  will  not  take  away  my  life.  I  will  put 
this  fire  into  the  thatch  of  my  house,  but  yet  I  will  not 
burn  it."  Just  so  it  is  with  wicked  men ;  they  will  be 
wicked,  and  they  will  live  after  the  flesh  and  the 
world,  and  yet  they  would  not  be  damned.  But  do 
you  not  know  that  the  means  lead  to  the  end  ?  and 
that  God  hath,  by  his  righteous  law,  concluded  that 
ye  must  repent  or  perish  ?  He  that  will  take  poison 
may  as  well  say  plainly,  I  will  kill  myself,  for  it  will 
prove  no  better  in  the  end ;  though  perhaps  he  loved 
it  for  the  sweetness  of  the  sugar  that  was  mixed  with 
it,  and  would  not  be  persuaded  that  it  was  poison, 
but  that  he  might  take  it  and  do  well  enough ;  but  it 
is  not  his  conceits  and  confidence  that  Avill  save  his 
life.  So  if  you  will  be  drunkards,  or  fornicators,  or 
worldlmgs,  or  live  after  the  flesh,  you  may  as  well 
say  plainly.  We  will  be  damned ;  for  so  you  will  be 
unless  you  turn.  Would  you  not  rebuke  the  folly  of  a 
murderer  that  would  say  I  will  kill,  but  I  will  not  be 
hanged,  when  he  knows  that  if  he  does  the  one,  the 
judge  in  justice  will  see  that  the  other  be  done  ?  If  he 
say  I  will  murder,  he  may  as  well  say  plainly,  I  will 
be  hanged ;  and  if  you  will  go  on  in  a  carnal  life,  you 
may  as  well  say  plainly.  We  will  go  to  hell. 

2.  Moreover,  the  wicked  will  not  use  those  means 
without  which  there  is  no  hope  of  their  salvation.  He 
that  will  not  eat,  may  as  well  say  plainly,  he  will 


100  A   CALL    TO  Ooct.  6. 

not  live,  unless  he  can  tell  how  to  live  without  meat. 
He  that  v.'ill  not  go  his  journey,  may  as  well  say 
plainly  he  will  not  come  to  the  end.  He  that  faJL?  into 
the  v\'ater,  and  will  not  come  out,  nor  suffer  anotlicr 
to  help  him  out,  may  as  well  say  plainly,  he  will  be 
drowned.  So  if  you  be  carnal  and  ungodly,  and  will 
not  be  converted,  nor  use  the  means  by  which  you 
ehould  be  converted,  but  think  it  more  ado  than  needs, 
3'ou  may  as  well  say  plainly  you  Vv'ill  be  damned ;  for 
if  you  have  found  out  a  way  to  be  saved  v^^ithout  con- 
version, you  have  done  that  which  was  never  done 
before. 

3.  Yea,  this  is  not  all ;  but  the  wicked  are  unwilling 
even  to  partake  of  salvation  itself;  though  they  may 
desire  somewhat  which  they  call  by  the  name  of  hea- 
ven, yet  heaven  itself,  considered  in  the  true  nature 
of  the  felicity,  they  desire  not;  yea,  their  hearts  are 
quite  against  it.  Heaven  is  a  state  of  perfect  holiness, 
and  of  continual  love  and  praise  to  God,  and  the 
wicked  have  no  heart  to  this.  The  imperfect  love, 
and  praise,  and  holiness,  which  is  here  to  be  attained, 
they  have  no  mind  for ;  much  less  for  that  which  is 
RO  much  greater.  The  joys  of  heaven  are  of  so  pure 
and  spiritual  a  nature  that  the  heart  of  the  wicked 
cannot  truly  desire  them. 

So  that  by  this  time  you  may  see  on  what  ground 
it  is  that  God  eupposeth  that  the  wicked  are  willing 
their  own  destruction.  They  will  not  turn,  though 
they  must  turn  or  die :  they  will  rather  venture  on 
certain  misery  than  be  converted  ;  and  then  to  quiet 
themselves  in  their  sins,  they  will  make  themselves 
believe  that  they  shall  nevertheless  escape. 

II.  And  as  this  controversy  is  matter  of  wonder,  in 
tliat  men  should  be  such  enemies  to  themselves  as 


Doct.  6.  THE    UNCONVERTED.  101 

wilfully  to  cast  away  their  souls,  so  are  the  disputants 
too  :  that  God  should  stoop  so  low  as  thus  to  plead  the 
case  with  men ;  and  that  men  should  be  so  strangely 
blind  and  obstinate  as  to  need  all  this  in  so  plain  a 
case ;  yea,  and  to  resist  all  this,  when  their  own  sal- 
vation lieth  upon  the  issue. 

No  wonder  that  they  will  not  hear  us  that  are  men 
when  they  will  not  hear  the  Lord  himself.  As  God 
saith,  (Ezek.  3  :  7,)  when  he  sent  the  prophet  to  the 
Israelites,  "  The  house  of  Israel  will  not  hearken 
unto  thee ;  for  they  will  not  hearken  unto  me ;  for  all 
the  house  of  Israel  are  impudent  and  hard-hearted." 
No  wonder  if  they  can  plead  against  a  minister,  or  a 
godly  neighbor,  Avhen  they  will  plead  against  the 
Lord  himself,  even  against  the  plainest  passages  of 
liis  word,  and  think  that  they  have  reason  on  their 
Bide.  When  they  weary  the  Lord  with  their  words, 
they  say,  "Wherein  have  we  wearied  him?"  Mai. 
2  :  17.  The  priests  that  despised  his  name  durst  ask, 
"  Wherein  have  we  despised  thy  name?"  And 
"  v/hen  they  polluted  his  altar,  and  made  the  table 
of  the  Lord  contemptible,"  they  durst  say,  "  Wherein 
have  we  polluted  thee  ?"  Mai.  1  :  6,  7.  But  "  Wo 
unto  him  (saith  the  Lord)  that  striveth  with  his  Ma- 
ker !  Let  the  potsherds  strive  with  the  potsherds  oi 
the  earth :  shall  the  clay  say  to  him  that  fashioneth 
it,  What  makest  thou  ?" 

Quest.  But  why  is  it  that  God  will  reason  the  case 
with  man  ? 

Answ.  1.  Because  that  man  being  a  reasonable 
creature,  is  accordingly  to  be  dealt  with,  and  by  rea- 
son to  be  pei-suadcd  and  overcome ;  God  hath  there- 
fore endowed  them  with  reason,  that  they  might  use 
it  for  him.  One  would  think  a  reasonalile  creature 
9* 


102  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  «. 

should  not  go  against  the  clearest,  the  greatest  reason 
in  the  world,  when  it  is  set  before  hini. 

2.  At  least,  men  shall  see  that  God  did  require  no- 
thing ofthem  that  was  unreasonable ;  but  both  in  what 
he  commandeth  them,  and  what  he  forbids  them,  he 
hath  all  the  right  reason  in  the  world  on  his  side; 
and  they  have  good  reason  to  obey  him — but  none  to 
disobey  him.  And  thus  even  tlie  damned  shall  be 
forced  to  justify  God,  and  confess  that  it  was  only  rea- 
sonable that  they  should  have  turned  to  him ;  and 
they  shall  be  forced  to  condemn  themselves,  and  con- 
fess that  they  had  little  reason  to  cast  away  them  • 
selves  by  the  neglecting  of  his  grace  in  the  day  of 
their  visitation. 

Use. — Look  up  your  best  and  strongest  reasons,  sm- 
ners,  if  you  will  make  good  your  way.  You  see  now 
with  whom  you  have  to  deal.  What  sayest  thou, 
unconverted  sensual  sinner  ?  Darest  thou  venture 
upon  a  dispute  with  God  ?  Art  thou  able  to  confute 
him  ?  Art  thou  ready  to  enter  the  lists  ?  God  asketh 
thee,  Why  wilt  thou  die  ?  Art  thou  furnished  with  a 
sufficient  answer?  Wilt  thou  undertake  to  prove 
that  God  is  mistaken,  and  that  thou  art  in  the  right  ? 
O  what  an  undertaking  is  that !  Why,  cither  he  or 
you  are  mistaken,  when  he  is  for  your  conversion,  and 
you  are  against  it :  he  calls  upon  you  to  turn,  and 
you  will  not ;  he  bids  you  do  it  presently,  even  to-day, 
while  it  is  called  to-day,  and  you  delay,  and  think  it 
time  enough  hereafter.  He  saith  it  must  be  a  total 
change,  and  you  must  be  holy  and  new  creatures,  and 
born  again  :  and  you  thinlc  that  lees  may  serve  the 
turn,  and  that  it  is  enough  to  patch  up  tlie  old  man, 
without  becoming  new.    Who  is  in  the  right  now? 


Doet.  6.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  103 

God  or  you  ?  God  calleth  you  to  turn,  and  to  live  a 
holy  life,  and  you  will  not :  by  your  disobedient  Ijves 
it  appears  you  will  not.  If  you  will,  why  do  you  not'? 
Why  have  you  not  done  it  all  this  while  ?  And  why 
do  you  not  fall  upon  it  yet?  Your  wills  have  the 
command  of  your  lives.  We  may  certainly  conclude 
that  you  are  unwilling  to  turn  when  you  do  not  turn. 
And  why  will  you  not  ? 

Can  you  give  any  reason  for  it  that  is  worthy  to 
be  called  a  reason  ? 

I  that  am  but  a  worm,  your  fellow  creature,  of  a 
shallow  capacity,  dare  challenge  the  wisest  of  you 
all  to  reason  the  case  with  me  while  I  plead  my  Ma- 
ker's cause ;  and  I  need  not  be  discouraged  when  I 
know  I  plead  but  the  cause  that  God  pleadeth,  and 
contend  for  him  that  w411  have  the  best  at  last.  Had 
I  but  these  two  general  grounds  against  you,  I  am 
sure  that  you  have  no  good  rearson  on  your  side. 

I  am  sure  it  can  be  no  good  reason  which  is  against 
the  God  of  truth  and  reason.  It  cannot  be  light  that 
is  contrary  to  the  sun.  There  is  no  knowledge  in  any 
creature  but  what  it  had  from  God;  and  therefore 
none  can  be  wiser  than  God.  It  were  fatal  presump- 
tion for  the  highest  angel  to  compare  Avith  his  Crea- 
tor !  What  is  it  then  for  a  lump  of  earth,  an  ignorant 
sot,  that  knoweth  not  himself  nor  his  own  soul,  that 
knoweth  but  little  of  the  things  which  he  seeth,  yea, 
tliat  is  more  ignorant  than  many  of  his  neighbors,  to 
set  himself  against  the  wisdom  of  the  Lord !  It  is  one 
of  the  fullest  discoveries  of  the  horrible  wickedness  of 
carnal  men,  and  the  stark  madness  of  such  as  sin, 
that  so  silly  a  mole  dare  contradict  his  Maker,  and 
call  in  question  the  word  of  God :  yea,  that  those 
people  in  our  parishes  that  are  so  ignorant  that  tliey 


104  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  6. 

cannot  give  U9  a  reasonable  aaswcr  concerning  the 
very  principles  ot"  religion,  are  yet  so  wise  in  their 
own  conceit,  that  they  dare  question  the  plainest 
truths  of  Grod,  yea,  contradict  them,  and  cavil  against 
them,  when  they  can  scarcely  speak  sense,  and  will 
beheve  them  no  further  than  agreeth  with  their  fool- 
ish Avisdom ! 

And  as  I  Imow  that  God  must  needs  be  in  the  right, 
so  I  know  the  cause  is  so  palpable  and  gross  which 
he  pleadeth  against,  that  no  man  can  have  reason 
for  it.  Is  it  possible  that  a  man  can  have  any  rejison 
to  break  his  Maker's  laws,  and  reason  to  dishonor  the 
Lord  of  glory,  and  reasoii  to  abuse  the  Lord  that 
bought  him  ?  Is  it  possible  that  a  man  can  have  any 
good  reason  to  damn  his  own  immortal  soul  ?  Mark  the 
Lord's  question.  Turn  ye,  turn  ye,  why  will  ye  die? 
Is  eternal  death  a  thing  to  be  desired  ?  Are  you  in  love 
with  hell  ?  What  reason  have  you  wilfully  to  perish  t 
If  you  think  you  have  some  reason  to  sin,  should  you 
not  remember  that  death  is  the  wages  of  sin,  (Rom. 
6 :  23.)  and  think  whether  you  have  any  reason  to 
undo  yourselves,  body  and  soul  for  ever  ?  You  should 
not  only  ask  whether  you  love  the  adder,  but  whether 
you  love  the  sting  ?  It  is  such  a  thing  for  a  man  to  cast 
away  his  everlasting  happiness,  and  lo  sin  against 
God,  that  no  good  reason  can  be  given  for  it;  but  the 
more  any  one  pleads  for  it,  the  more  mad  he  showeth 
himself  to  be.  Had  you  a  lordship,  or  a  kingdom 
offered  you  for  every  sin  that  you  commit,  it  were  not 
reason,  but  madness  to  accept  it.  Could  you  by  every 
Kin  obtain  the  highest  thing  on  earth  that  flesh  desireth, 
it  were  of  no  considerable  value  to  persuade  you  in 
reason  to  commit  it.  If  it  were  to  please  your  great- 
est or  dearest  friends,  or  to  obey  the  greatest  prince  on 


Doct.  6.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  105 

earth,  or  to  save  your  lives,  or  to  escape  the  greatest 
earthly  misery;  all  these  are  of  no  consideration  to 
draw  a  man  in  reason  to  the  committing  of  one  sin. 
If  it  were  a  right  hand,  or  a  right  eye  that  would 
hinder  your  salvation,  it  is  the  most  gainful  way  to 
cast  it  away,  rather  than  to  go  to  hell  to  save  it ;  for 
there  is  no  saving  a  part  when  you  lose  the  whole. 
So  exceedingly  great  are  the  matters  of  eternity,  that 
nothing  in  this  world  deserveth  once  to  be  named  in 
comparison  with  them;  nor  can  any  earthly  thing, 
though  it  were  life,  or  crowns,  or  kingdoms,  be  a  rea- 
sonable excuse  for  the  neglect  of  matters  of  such  high 
and  everlasting  consequence.  A  man  can  have  no 
reason  to  cross  his  ultimate  end.  Heaven  is  such  a 
thing,  that  if  you  lose  it,  nothing  can  supply  the  want, 
or  make  up  the  loss;  and  hell  is  such  a  thing,  that  if 
you  suffer  it,  nothing  can  remove  your  misery,  or  give 
you  ease  and  comfort;  and  therefore  nothing  can 
be  a  valuable  consideration  to  excuse  you  for  neg- 
lecting your  own  salvation;  for,  saith  our  Savior, 
"  What  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  shall  gain  the 
whole  world,  and  lose  his  own  soul  ?"  Mark,  8  :  36. 
O  sirs,  that  you  did  but  know  what  matters  they  are 
t^at  we  are  now  speaking  to  j'su  of!  you  would  have 
other  kind  of  thoughts  of  these  things.  If  the  devil 
could  come  to  the  saints  in  heaven  that  live  in  the 
eight  and  love  of  God,  and  should  offer  them  sensual 
pleasures,  or  merry  company,  or  sports  to  entice  them 
away  from  God  and  glory,  I  pray  you  tell  me,  how  do 
you  think  they  would  entertain  the  motion  ?  Nay,  or 
if  he  should  offer  them  to  be  kings  on  the  earth,  do  you 
think  this  would  entice  them  down  from  heaven?  O 
\vith  what  hatred  and  holy  scorn  wouM  they  reject 
the  motion !  And  why  should  not  you  do  so,  that  have 


106  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  6. 

heaven  opened  to  your  faith,  if  you  had  but  faith  to  see 
it  ?  There  is  never  a  soul  in  hell  but  knows,  by  tlii.^ 
time,  tliat  it  was  a  mad  exchange  to  let  go  heaven 
for  fleshly  pleasure :  and  tliat  it  is  not  a  little  mirth, 
or  plecisure,  or  worldly  riches,  or  honor,  or  the  good 
will  or  word  of  men,  that  will  quench  hell  fire,  or 
make  him  a  gainer  that  loseth  his  soul.  O  if  you  had 
heard  what  I  believe,  if  you  had  seen  what  I  believe, 
and  that  on  the  credit  of  the  word  of  God,  you  would 
say  there  can  be  no  reason  to  warrant  a  man  to  destroy 
his  soul ;  you  durst  not  sleep  quietly  another  night, 
before  you  had  resolved  to  turn  and  live. 

If  you  see  a  man  put  his  hand  in  the  fire  till  it 
burn  ofi',  you  will  marvel  at  it ;  but  this  is  a  thing  that 
a  man  may  have  a  reason  for,  as  Bishop  Cranmer  had 
when  he  burnt  off  his  hand  for  subscribing  to  Poper}'. 
If  you  see  a  man  cut  off"  a  leg,  or  an  arm,  it  is  a  sad 
sight ;  but  this  is  a  thing  that  a  man  may  have  a 
good  reason  for,  as  many  a  man  hath  it  done  to  save 
liis  life.  If  you  see  a  man  give  his  body  to  be  tor- 
mented with  scourges  and  racks,  or  to  be  burned  to 
ashes,  and  refuse  deliverance  when  it  is  offered,  this 
is  a  hard  case  to  flesh  and  blood ;  but  this  a  man  may 
have  good  reason  for,  as  you  may  see  in  Heb.  11 :  33, 
36,  and  as  many  a  hundred  martyrs  have  done.  But 
for  a  man  to  forsake  the  Lord  that  made  him,  and  to 
run  into  the  fire  of  hell  when  he  is  told  of  it,  and  en- 
treated to  turn  that  he  may  be  saved — this  is  a  thing 
ihat  can  have  no  reason  in  the  world  to  justify  or  ex- 
cuse it.  For  heaven  will  pay  for  the  loss  of  any  thing 
that  we  can  lose  to  obtain  it,  or  for  any  labor  which 
we  bestow  for  it ;  but  nothing  can  pay  for  the  loas  oi 
heaven. 

I  beseech  you  now  let  this  word  come  nearer  to  your 


Docl.  6.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  107 

heart.  As  you  are  convinced  that  you  have  no  reason 
to  destroy  yourselves,  so  tell  me  what  reason  have  you 
to  refuse  to  turn  and  live  to  God  ?  What  reason  has 
the  veriest  worldling,  or  drunkard,  or  ignorant  careless 
sinner  of  you  all,  why  he  should  not  be  as  holy  as  any 
you  know,  and  be  as  careful  for  his  soul  as  any  other? 
Will  not  hell  be  as  intoleral)le  to  you  as  to  others  ? 
Should  not  your  own  souls  be  as  dear  to  you  as  theirs 
to  them  ?  Hath  not  God  as  much  authority  over  you? 
Why  then  Avill  you  not  become  a  sanctified  people,  as 
well  as  they? 

O,  sirs,  when  God  bringeth  the  matter  down  to  tlie 
very  principles  of  nature,  and  shows  that  you  have 
no  more  reason  to  be  ungodly  than  you  have  to  damn 
your  own  souls — if  yet  you  will  not  understand  and 
turn,  it  seems  a  desperate  case  that  you  are  in. 

And  now,  either  you  have  good  reason  for  what  you 
do,  or  you  have  not :  if  not,  will  you  ^o  against  rea- 
son itself?  Will  you  do  that  which  you  have  no  rea- 
son for?  But  if  you  think  you  have  a  reason,  produce 
it,  and  make  the  best  of  your  matter.  Reason  the 
case  a  little  with  me,  your  fellow  creature,  which  is 
far  easier  than  to  reason  the  case  with  God ;  tell  me, 
man,  here  before  the  Lord,  as  if  thou  wert  to  die  this 
hour,  why  shoulJest  thou  not  resolve  to  turn  this  day, 
before  thou  stir  from  the  place  thou  standest  in ;  what 
reason  hast  thou  to  deny  or  to  delay?  Hast  thou  any 
reasons  that  satisfy  thine  own  conscience  for  it,  or  any 
that  thou  darest  own  and  plead  at  the  bar  of  God?  If 
thou  hast,  let  us  hear  them,  bring  them  forth,  and 
make  them  good.  But,  alas !  what  poor  stuff,  what 
nonsense,  instead  of  reasons,  do  we  daily  hear  from 
ungodly  men !  But  for  their  necessity  I  should  be 
ashamed  to  name  tliem. 


108  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  & 

Objection  1.  One  saith,  if  none  shall  be  saved  but 
Buch  converted  ami  sanctified  ones  as  you  talk  of,  then 
heaven  would  be  but  empty ;  then  God  help  a  great 
many. 

Answer.  Why,  it  seems  you  think  that  God  doth 
not  know,  or  else  that  he  is  not  to  be  believed !  Mea- 
sure not  all  by  yourselves :  God  hath  thousands  and 
millions  of  his  sanctified  ones ;  but  yet  they  are  few 
in  comparison  of  the  world,  as  Christ  himself  hath 
told  us.  Matt.  7  :  13,  14.  Luke,  11 :  32.  It  better  be- 
seems you  to  make  that  use  of  this  truth  which  Christ 
teacheth  you:  "  Strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate; 
for  strait  is  the  gate  and  narrow  is  the  way  that 
leadeth  unto  life,  and  few  there  be  that  find  it;  but 
wide  i^  the  gate  and  broad  is  the  way  which  leadetli 
to  destruction,  and  many  there  be  that  go  in  thereat." 
Luke,  13  :  22—24.  Fear  not,  little  flock,  (saith  Christ 
to  his  sanctified  ones,)  for  it  is  your  Father's  good 
pleasure  to  give  you  tlie  kingdom.  Luke,  12  :  32. 

Object.  2.  I  am  sure,  if  such  as  I  go  to  hell,  we  shall 
have  store  of  company. 

Ans-w.  And  will  that  be  any  ease  or  comfort  to  you  1 
Or  do  you  think  you  may  not  have  company  enough 
jn  heaven?  Will  you  be  undone  for  company,  or  will 
you  not  believe  that  God  Avill  execute  his  threaten- 
ings,  because  there  be  so  many  that  are  guilty '?  These 
are  all  unreasonable  conceits. 

Object.  3.  But  all  men  are  sinners,  even  the  best  of 
you  all. 

An^w.  But  all  are  not  unconverted  sinners.  The 
godly  live  not  in  gross  sins ;  and  their  very  infirmities 
are  their  grief  and  burden,  which  they  daily  long, 
and  pray,  and  strive  to  be  rid  of.  Sin  hath  not  do- 
minion over  them. 


Docl.  6.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  109 

Object.  4.  I  do  not  see  that  professors  are  any  bettei 
than  other  men;  they  will  overreach,  and  oppress, 
and  are  as  covetous  as  any. 

Answ.  Whatever  hypocrites  are^  it  is  not  so  ■v^^th 
those  that  are  sanctified.  God  hath  thousands,  and 
tens  of  thousands  that  are  otherwise,  though  the  ma- 
licious world  doth  accuse  them  of  what  they  can  never 
prove,  and  of  that  which  never  entered  into  their 
hearts;  and  commonly  they  charge  them  with  heart- 
sins,  which  none  can  see  but  God,  because  they  can 
charge  them  with  no  such  wickedness  in  their  lives 
as  they  are  guilty  of  themselves. 

Object.  5.  But  I  am  no  whoremonger,  nor  drunkard, 
nor  oppressor ;  and  therefore  why  should  you  call  upon 
me  to  be  converted  ? 

Answ.  As  if  you  were  not  born  after  the  flesh,  and 
had  not  lived  after  the  flesh,  as  well  as  others !  Is  it 
not  as  great  a  sin  as  any  of  these,  for  a  man  to  liave 
an  earthly  mind,  and  to  love  the  world  above  God, 
and  to  have  an  mibelieving,  unhumbled  heart  ?  Nay, 
let  me  tell  you  more,  that  many  persons  that  avoid 
disgraceful  sins  are  as  fast  glued  to  the  world,  and  aa 
much  slaves  to  the  flesh,  and  as  strange  to  God,  and 
averse  to  heaven  in  their  more  civil  course,  as  others 
are  in  their  more  sliameful  notorious  sins. 

Object.  6,  But  I  mean  nobody  any  harm,  nor  do 
any  harm ;  and  -vvhy  then  should  God  condemn  me? 

Answ.  Is  it  no  harm  to  neglect  the  Lord  that  made 
thee,  and  the  work  for  which  thou  earnest  into  tho 
world,  and  to  prefer  the  creature  before  the  Creator, 
and  to  neglect  grace  that  is  daily  offered  thee?  It  is 
liic  depth  of  thy  sinfulness  to  be  so  insensible  of  it: 
ihe  dead  feel  not  tliat  they  are  dead.  If  once  thou 
10 


no  A  CALL  TO  Doct  9, 

wert  made  alive,  thou  wouldst  see  more  amiss  in  tliy- 
eeir,  and  marvel  at  thyself  tor  making  so  light  of  it. 

Object,  7.  I  think  you  would  make  men  mad,  under 
pretence  of  converting  them :  it  is  enough  to  rack  the 
brains  of  simple  people  to  muse  so  mueii  on  matters 
so  high  for  them. 

Answ.  1.  Can  you  be  more  mad  than  you  are  al- 
ready? or,  at  least,  can  there  be  a  more  dangerous 
madness  than  to  neglect  your  everlasting  welfare, 
and  wilfully  undo  yourselves  ? 

2.  A  man  is  never  w^ell  in  his  wits  till  he  be  con- 
verted: he  never  knows  God,  nor  knows  sin,  nor  knows 
Christ,  nor  knows  the  world,  nor  himself,  nor  Avhat  his 
business  is  on  earth,  so  as  to  set  himself  about  it,  till 
he  be  converted.  The  Scripture  saith,  that  the  wicked 
are  unreasonable  men,  (2  These.  3:2,)  and  that  the 
■wisdom  of  the  world  is  foolishness  with  Gotl.  1  Cor, 
1  :  20.  and  Luke  15  :  17.  It  is  said  of  the  prodigal, 
that  when  be  came  to  himself  he  resolved  to  return. 
What  a  strange  wisdom  is  this;  men  will  disobey 
God,  and  run  to  hell,  for  fear  of  being  out  of  their  wits? 

3.  What  is  there  in  the  w^ork  that  Christ  calls  you 
to,  that  should  drive  a  man  out  of  his  wits  ?  Is  it  the 
loving  God,  and  calling  upon  him,  and  comfortably 
thinking  of  the  glory  to  come,  and  the  forsaking  of 
our  sins,  and  loving  one  another,  and  delighting  our- 
selves in  the  service  of  God  ?  Are  tliese  such  tilings 
as  should  make  men  mad  ? 

4.  And  whereas  you  say  that  these  matters  are  too 
high  for  us ;  you  accuse  God  himself  for  making  this  our 
work,  and  giving  us  his  word,  and  commanding  all 
that  w^ill  be  blessed  to  meditate  on  it  day  and  n'ght. 
Are  tlie  matters  which  we  are  made  for,  and  which 
we  hve  for,  too  liigh  for  us  to  meddle  Avith  ?     This  i* 


^>ocl6.  the  unconverted.  Ill 

plainly  to  unman  us.  and  to  make  beasts  of  us,  as  if 
we  were  like  them  that  must  meddle  with  no  higher 
matters  than  what  belongs  to  flesh  and  earth.  If 
heaven  be  too  high  for  you  to  think  on  and  provide 
for,  it  will  be  too  high  for  you  ever  to  possess. 

5.  If  Grod  should  sometimes  suffer  any  weak-headed 
persons  to  be  distracted  by  thinking  of  eternal  things, 
this  is  because  they  misunderstand  them,  and  run 
without  a  guide ;  and  of  the  two,  I  had  raiher  be  in 
the  case  of  such  a  one,  than  of  the  mad  unconverted 
world,  that  take  their  distraction  to  be  their  wisdom. 

Object.  8.  I  do  not  think  that  God  cares  so  much 
what  men  think,  or  speak,  or  do,  as  to  make  so  great 
a  matter  of  it. 

Answ.  It  seems,  then,  you  take  the  word  of  God  to 
be  false :  then  what  will  you  believe  ?  But  your  own 
reason  might  teach  you  better,  if  you  believe  not  the 
scriptures;  for  you  see  God  sets  not  so  light  by  us  but 
that  he  vouchsafed  to  make  us,  and  still  preser^'eth  us, 
and  daily  upholdeth  us,  and  provideth  for  us ;  and  will 
any  wise  man  make  a  curious  frame  for  nothing? 
Will  you  make  or  buy  a  clock  or  watch,  and  daily 
look  at  it,  and  not  care  whether  it  go  true;  or  false  1 
Surely,  if  you  beheve  not  a  particular  eye  of  Provi- 
dence observing  your  hearts  and  lives,  yovi  cannot  be- 
lieve or  expect  any  particular  Providence  to  observe 
your  wants  and  troubles,  or  to  relieve  you;  and  it 
God  had  so  little  care  for  you  as  you  imagine,  you 
would  never  have  lived  till  now ;  a  hundred  diseases 
would  have  striven  which  should  first  destroy  you : 
yea,  the  devils  would  have  haunted  you,  and  fetched 
you  away  aUve,  £is  the  great  fishes  devour  the  less, 
and  as  ravenous  beasts  and  birds  devour  others.  You 
camiot  think  that  God  made  man  for  no  end  or  use ; 


112  A  CALL  TO  Doet.6. 

and  if  he  made  him  for  any,  it  was  surely  for  himself; 
and  can  you  think  he  cares  not  whetlier  his  end  be 
accomplished,  and  whether  we  do  the  work  that  we 
are  made  for  ? 

Yea,  by  tliis  atheistical  objection  you  make  God  to 
have  made  and  upheld  all  the  world  in  vain ;  for  what 
are  all  other  lower  creatures  for,  but  for  man  ?  What 
doth  the  earth  but  bear  us  and  nourish  us,  and  the 
beasts  but  serve  us  with  their  labors  and  lives,  and  so 
of  the  rest?  And  hath  God  made  so  glorious  a  habita- 
tion, and  set  man  to  dwell  in  it,  and  made  all  his  ser- 
vants ;  and  now  doth  he  look  for  nothing  at  his  hands, 
nor  care  how  he  thinks,  or  speaks,  or  lives  ?  This  is 
most  imreasonable. 

Object.  9.  It  was  a  better  world  when  men  did  not 
make  so  much  ado  in  religion. 

AnsiP.  1.  It  hatli  ever  been  the  custom  to  praise  the 
times  past ;  that  world  that  you  speak  of  vra.s  wont  to 
say  it  was  a  better  world  in  their  forefathers'  days ; 
and  60  did  they  of  their  forefathers.  This  is  but  an 
old  custom,  because  we  all  feel  the  evil  of  our  own 
times,  but  we  see  not  that  which  was  before  us. 

2.  Perhaps  you  speak  as  you  think.  Worldlinga 
think  the  world  is  at  the  best  when  it  is  agreeable  to 
tlieir  minds,  and  when  they  have  most  mirth  and 
worldly  pleasure ;  and  I  doubt  not  but  the  devil,  as  well 
as  you,  would  say,  that  then  it  was  a  better  world ; 
for  then  he  had  more  service,  and  less  disturbance. 
But  the  world  is  at  the  best  when  God  is  most  loved, 
regarded,  and  obeyed ;  and  how  else  will  you  know 
when  the  world  is  good  or  bad,  but  by  this? 
•  Object.  10.  There  are  so  many  ways  and  religions, 
that  we  know  not  which  to  be  of,  and  therefore  we 
will  be  even  as  we  are. 


^oct.  6.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  113 

Answ,  Because  there  are  many,  will  you  be  of  that 
way  that  you  may  be  sure  is  wrong  ?  None  are  further 
out  of  the  way  than  worldly,  fleshly,  unconverted  sin- 
ners ;  for  tliey  do  not  only  err  in  this  or  that  opinion, 
as  many  sects  do,  but  in  the  very  scope  and  drift  of 
their  lives.  If  you  were  going  a  journey  that  your 
life  lay  on,  would  you  stop,  or  turn  again,  because  you 
met  with  some  cross-ways,  or  because  you  saw  some 
travellers  go  the  horse-way,  and  some  the  foot-way, 
and  some  perhaps  break  over  the  hedge,  yea,  and 
some  miss  the  way  ?  Or  would  you  not  rather  be  the 
more  careful  to  inquire  the  way  ?  If  you  have  some 
servants  that  la7ow  not  how  to  do  your  work  right, 
and  some  that  are  uniaithful,  would  you  take  it  well 
of  any  of  the  rest  that  would  therefore  be  idle  and  do 
you  no  service,  because  they  see  their  companions 
60  bad? 

Object.  11.  I  do  not  see  that  it  goes  any  better  witli 
those  that  are  so  godly,  than  with  other  men;  they 
are  as  poor  and  in  as  much  trouble  as  others. 

Answ.  And  perhaps  in  much  more,  when  God  sees 
it  meet.  They  take  not  earthly  prosperity  for  their 
wages;  they  have  laid  up  their  treasure  and  hopes  in 
another  world,  or  else  they  are  not  Christians  indeed ; 
the  less  they  have,  the  more  is  behind,  and  they  are 
content  to  wait  till  then. 

Object.  12.  When  you  have  said  all  that  you  can,  I 
am  resolved  to  hope  well,  and  trust  in  Grod,  and  do  as 
well  as  I  can,  and  not  make  so  much  ado. 

Answ.  1.  Is  that  doing  as  well  as  you  can,  when 
you  will  not  turn  to  God,  but  j^our  heart  is  againet 
his  holy  and  diligent  service?  It  is  as  well  as  you  will, 
indeed,  but  that  is  your  misery. 

2.  My  desire  is,  that  you  should  hope  and  trust  in 
10* 


114  A  CALL  TO  Doct.  6. 

God.  Bat  for  what  is  it  that  you  will  hope?  Is  it  to 
be  saved,  if  you  turn  and  be  sanctified?  For  this  you 
have  God's  promise,  and  therefore  hope  for  it,  and 
spare  not.  But  if  you  hope  to  be  saved  without  con- 
version, and  a  holy  life,  this  is  not  to  hope  in  God,  but 
in  Satan,  or  yourselves ;  for  God  hath  given  you  no 
such  promise,  but  told  you  the  contrary;  but  it  is 
Satan  and  self-love  that  made  you  such  promises,  and 
raised  you  to  such  hopes. 

Well,  if  tliese,  and  such  as  these,  be  all  you  have 
to  say  against  conversion,  and  a  holy  life,  your  all  is 
nothing,  and  worse  than  nothing ;  and  if  these,  and 
such  as  these,  seem  reasons  sufficient  to  persuade  you 
to  forsake  God,  and  cast  yourselves  into  hell,  the  Lord 
deliver  you  from  such  reasons,  and  from  such  blind 
understandings,  and  from  such  senseless  hardened 
hearts.  Dare  you  stand  to  aver  one  of  these  reasons 
at  the  bar  of  God  ?  Do  you  think  it  will  then  serve 
your  turn  to  say,  "  Lord,  I  did  not  turn,  because  I  had 
so  much  to  do  in  the  world,  or  because  I  did  not  like 
tlie  lives  of  some  professors,  or  because  I  saw  men  of 
so  many  minds !"  O  how  easily  will  the  light  of  that 
day  confound  and  shame  such  reasonings  as  these ! 
Had  you  the  world  to  look  after?  Let  the  world  which 
you  served  now  pay  you  your  wages,  and  save  you  if 
it  can.  Had  you  not  a  better  world  to  look  after  first, 
and  were  ye  not  commanded  to  seek  first  God's  king- 
dom and  righteousness,  and  promised  that  other  things 
should  be  added  to  you  ?  Matt.  6  :  33.  And  were  ye 
not  told,  that  godliness  Avas  profitable  to  all  things, 
having  the  promise  of  this  life,  and  that  which  is  to 
come?  1  Tim.  4  :  8.  Did  the  sins  of  the  professors 
hinder  you  ?  You  should  rather  have  been  the  more 
heedful,  and  learned  by  their  falls  to  beware,  and  have 


DocL  0.  THE  UNCONVERTED.  115 

been  the  more  careful,  and  not  to  be  more  careless.  It 
was  the  Scripture,  and  not  their  lives,  that  was  your 
rule.  Did  the  many  opinions  of  the  world  hinder 
you?  Why  the  Scripture  that  was  your  rule  did 
teach  you  but  one  way,  and  that  was  the  right  way 
If  you  had  followed  that,  even  in  so  much  as  was  plain 
and  easy,  you  should  never  have  miscarried.  Will 
not  such  answers  as  these  confound  and  silence  you  1 
If  these  will  not,  God  hath  those  that  will.  When 
he  asked  the  man,  "  Friend,  how  camest  thou  in 
hither,  not  having  on  a  wedding  garment?"  Matt. 
22 :  12,  that  is,  what  dost  thou  in  my  church  among 
professed  Christians,  without  a  holy  heart  and  hfe — 
what  answer  did  he  make?  Why.  the  text  saith,  "  he 
was  speechless ;"  he  had  nothing  to  say.  The  clear- 
ness of  the  case,  and  the  majesty  of  God,  will  then 
easily  stop  the  mouths  of  the  most  confident  of  you, 
though  you  will  not  be  put  down  by  any  thing  we 
can  say  to  you  now,  but  will  make  good  your  cause 
be  it  ever  so  bad.  1  know  already  that  never  a  reason 
that  now  you  can  give  me  will  do  you  any  good  at 
last,  when  your  case  must  be  opened  before  the  Lord, 
and  all  the  world. 

Nay,  I  scarce  think  that  your  own  consciences  are 
well  satisfied  with  your  reasons ;  for  if  they  are,  it 
seems,  then,  you  have  not  so  much  as  a  purpose  to 
repent.  But  if  you  do  purpose  to  repent,  it  seems 
you  do  not  put  much  confidence  in  your  reasons  which 
you  bring  against  it. 

What  say  you,  unconverted  sinners  ?  Have  you 
any  good  reasons  to  give  why  you  should  not  turn, 
and  presently  turn  with  all  your  hearts  ?  Or  will  you 
go  to  hell  in  despite  of  reason  itself?  Bethink  you 
what  you  do  in  time,  for  it  will  shortly  be  too  late  to 


116  A   CALL  TO  Doct.  6. 

bethink  you.  Can  you  find  any  fault  with  God,  or 
his  work,  or  his  wages  ?  Is  he  a  bad  master  ?  Is  the 
devil,  whom  ye  serve,  a  better  ?  or  is  the  flesh  a  bet- 
ter? Is  there  any  harm  in  a  holy  life?  Is  a  life  of 
worldliness  and  ungodliness  better  ?  Do  you  think  in 
your  consciences  that  it  would  do  you  any  harm  to  be 
converted  and  hve  a  holy  life  ?  What  harm  can  it 
do  you  ?  Is  it  harm  to  you  to  have  the  Spirit  of  Christ 
within  you,  and  to  have  a  cleansed  purified  heart  ? 
If  it  be  bad  to  be  holy,  why  doth  God  say,  "  Be  ye 
holy,  for  I  am  holy?"  I  Pet.  1  :  15,  16;  Lev.  20  :  7. 
Is  it  evil  to  be  like  God  ?  Is  it  not  said  that  God  made 
man  in  his  own  image  ?  Why,  this  holiness  is  his 
image ;  this  Adam  lost,  and  this  Christ  by  his  word 
and  Spirit  would  restore  to  you,  as  he  doth  to  all  that 
he  will  save.  Tell  me  truly,  as  before  the  Lord, 
though  you  are  loth  to  live  a  holy  life,  had  you  not 
rather  die  in  the  case  of  those  that  do  so,  than  of 
others  ?  If  you  were  to  die  this  day,  had  you  not  ra- 
ther die  in  the  case  of  a  converted  man  than  of  an  un- 
converted ?  of  a  holy  and  heavenly  man  than  of  a 
carnal  earthly  man  ?  and  would  you  not  say  as  Ba- 
laam, (Numb.  23  :  10.)  "  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the 
righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  like  his !"  And  why 
will  you  not  now  be  of  the  mind  that  you  will  be  of 
then  ?  First  or  last  you  must  come  to  this,  either  to 
be  converted,  or  to  wish  you  had  been,  when  it  is 
too  late. 

But  what  is  it  that  you  are  afraid  of  losing,  if  you 
turn  ?  Is  it  your  friends  ?  You  will  but  change  them ; 
God  will  be  your  friend,  and  Christ  and  the  Spirit 
will  be  your  friend  ;  and  every  Christian  will  be  your 
friend.  You  will  get  one  friend  that  will  stand  you  in 
more  stead  than  all  the  friends  in  the  world  could  have 


Doct.  8  THE  UNCONVERTED.  117 

done.  The  friends  you  lose  would  have  but  enticed 
you  to  hell,  but  could  not  have  delivered  you :  but  the 
friend  you  get  will  save  you  from  hell,  and  bring  you 
to  his  own  eternal  rest. 

Is  it  your  pleasures  that  you  are  afraid  of  losing  ? 
You  think  you  shall  never  have  a  merry  day  again 
if  once  you  be  converted.  Alas !  that  you  should  think 
it  a  greater  pleasure  to  live  in  foolish  sports  and  mer- 
riments, and  please  your  flesh,  than  to  live  in  the  be- 
lieving thoughts  of  glory,  and  in  the  love  of  God,  and 
in  righteousness,  and  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy 
Ghost,  in  which  the  state  of  grace  consisteth.  Rom. 
14  :  17.  If  it  would  be  a  greater  pleasure  for  you  to 
think  of  your  lands  and  inheritance,  if  you  were  lord 
of  all  the  country,  than  it  is  for  a  child  to  play  at  pins, 
why  should  it  not  be  a  greater  joy  to  you  to  think  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  being  yours*  than  of  all  the 
riches  or  pleasures  of  the  world  1  As  it  is  but  foolish 
childishness  that  makes  children  so  delight  in  toys 
that  they  would  not  leave  them  for  all  your  lands,  so 
it  is  but  foolish  worldliness,  and  fleshliness,  and  wick- 
edness, that  makes  you  so  much  delight  in  your  houses 
and  lands,  and  meat  and  drink,  and  ease  and  honor, 
as  that  you  would  not  part  with  them  for  the  heaven- 
ly dehghts.  But  what  will  you  do  for  pleasure  when 
^ese  are  gone  7  Do  you  not  think  of  that  ?  When 
your  pleasures  end  in  horror,  and  go  out  like  a  taper, 
the  pleasures  of  the  saints  are  then  at  the  best.  I  have 
had  myself  but  a  httle  taste  of  the  heavenly  pleasures 
in  the  forethoughts  of  the  blessed  approaching  day, 
and  in  the  present  persuasions  of  the  love  of  God  in 
Christ ;  but  I  have  taken  too  deep  a  draught  of  earth- 
ly pleasures :  so  that  you  may  see,  if  I  be  partial,  it  ia 
on  your  side ;  and  yet  I  must  profess  from  that  little 


118  A  CALL   TO  Doct.  6. 

experience,  that  there  is  no  comparison.  There  is 
rnore  joy  to  be  had  in  a  day,  if  the  sun  of  hfe  shine 
clear  upon  us,  in  the  state  of  hohness,  than  in  a  whole 
life  of  sinful  pleasures.  "  I  had  rather  be  a  door-keeper 
in  the  house  of  God  than  to  dwell  in  the  tents  of  wick- 
edness." Psalm  &4  :  10.  "  A  day  in  his  courts  is  better 
than  a  thousand"  any  where  else.  Psalm  84  :  10.  The 
mirth  of  the  wicked  is  like  the  laughter  of  a  madman, 
that  knows  not  his  own  misery ;  and  therefore  Solo- 
mon says  of  such  laughter,  "  it  is  mad ;  and  of  mirth, 
what  <lotli  it  ?"  Eccles.  2  :  2 ;  7  :  2,  6.  "  It  is  better 
to  go  to  the  house  of  mourning  than  to  go  to  the  house 
of  feasting ;  for  that  is  the  end  of  all  men,  and  the  liv- 
ing will  lay  it  to  his  heart.  Sorrow  is  better  than 
laughter ;  for  by  the  sadness  of  the  countenance  the 
heart  is  made  better..  The  heart  of  the  wise  is  in  the 
house  of  mourning ;  but  the  heart  of  fools  is  in  the 
house  of  mirth.  It  is  better  to  bear  the  rebuke  of  the 
wise,  than  to  hear  the  song  of  fools ;  for  as  the  crack- 
ling of  thorns  under  a  pot,  so  is  the  laughter  of  the 
fool."  Your  loudest  laughter  is  but  like  that  of  a  man 
that  is  tickled ;  he  laughs  when  he  has  no  cause  of 
joy.  Judge,  as  you  are  men,  whether  tliis  be  a  wise 
man's  part.  It  is  but  your  carnal  unsanctified  nature 
that  makes  a  holy  life  seem  grievous  to  you,  and  a 
course  of  sensuality  seem  more  delightful.  If  you  will 
but  turn,  the  Holy  Ghost  will  give  you  another  na- 
ture and  inclination,  and  then  it  will  be  more  pleasant 
to  you  to  be  rid  of  your  sin,  than  now  it  is  to  keep  it , 
and  you  will  then  say,  that  you  knew  not  what  a 
comfortable  life  was  till  now,  and  that  it  was  never 
well  with  you  till  God  and  holiness  were  your  delight. 
Question.  But  how  cometh  it  to  pass  that  men 
should  bfe  so  unreasonable  in  the  matters  of  salvation  ? 


Doct.  6.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  119 

They  have  wit  enough  in  other  matters :  what  makes 
them  so  loth  to  be  converted  that  there  should  need 
60  many  words  in  so  plain  a  case,  and  all  will  not  do, 
but  the  most  will  live  and  die  unconverted  ? 

Answer.  To  name  them  only  in  a  few  words,  the 
causes  are  these : 

1.  Men  are  naturally  in  love  with  the  earth  and 
flesh ;  they  are  born  sinners,  and  their  nature  hath  an 
enmity  to  God  and  goodness,  as  the  nature  of  a  ser- 
pent hath  to  a  man  :  and  when  all  that  we  can  say 
goes  against  an  habitual  inclination  of  their  natures, 
no  marvel  if  it  prevail  little. 

2.  They  are  in  darkness,  and  know  not  the  very 
things  they  hear.  Like  a  man  that  was  born  blind, 
and  hears  a  high  commendation  of  the  light ;  but 
what  will  hearing  do,  unless  he  sees  it  1  They  know 
not  what  God  is,  nor  what  is  the  power  of  the  cross 
of  Christ,  nor  what  the  Spirit  of  holiness  is,  nor  what 
it  is  to  live  in  love  by  faith  :  they  know  not  the  cer- 
tainty, and  suitableness,  and  excellency  of  the  hea- 
venly inheritance.  They  know  not  what  conversion 
and  a  holy  mind  and  conversation  is,  even  when  they 
hear  of  it.  They  are  in  a  mist  of  ignorance.  They 
are  lost  and  be^vildered  in  sin ;  like  a  man  that  has 
lost  himself  in  the  niglit,  and  knows  not  where  he  is, 
nor  how  to  come  to  himself  again,  till  the  daylight 
recover  him. 

3.  They  are  wilfully  confident  that  they  need  no 
conversion,  but  some  partial  amendment,  and  that 
they  are  in  the  way  to  heaven  already,  and  are  con- 
verted when  they  are  not.  And  if  you  meet  a  man 
that  is  quite  out  of  his  way,  you  may  long  enough 
call  on  him  to  turn  back  again,  if  he  will  not  believe 
you  that  he  is  out  of  the  way. 


laC  A  CALL  TO  Doct.  8. 

4.  They  are  become  slaves  to  their  flesh,  and 
drowned  in  the  world,  to  make  provision  for  it.  Their 
lusts,  and  passions,  and  appetites,  have  distracted 
them,  and  got  such  a  hand  over  them  that  they  can- 
not tell  how  to  deny  them,  or  how  to  mind  any  thing 
else ;  so  that  the  drunkard  saith,  I  love  a  cup  of  good 
drink,  and  I  cannot  forbear  it ;  the  glutton  saith,  I 
love  good  cheer,  and  I  cannot  forbear ;  the  fornicator 
saith,  I  love  to  have  my  lufit  fulfilled,  and  I  cannot 
forbear ;  and  the  gamester  loves  to  have  his  sports, 
and  he  cannot  forbear.  So  that  they  are  become  even 
captivated  slaves  to  their  flesh,  and  their  very  wilful- 
ness is  become  an  impotency ;  and  what  they  would 
not  do,  they  say  they  cannot.  And  the  worldling  is 
so  taken  up  with  earthly  things,  that  he  hath  neither 
heart,  nor  mind,  nor  time,  for  heavenly ;  but,  as  in 
Pharaoh's  dream,  Gen.  41  :  4,  the  lean  kine  did  eat 
up  the  fat  ones ;  so  this  lean  and  barren  earth  doth 
eat  up  all  the  thoughts  of  heaven. 

5.  Some  are  so  carried  away  by  the  stream  of  evil 
company,  that  they  are  possessed  with  hard  thoughts 
of  a  godly  life,  by  hearing  them  speak  against  it ;  or 
at  least  they  think  they  may  venture  to  do  as  they 
see  most  do,  and  so  they  hold  on  in  their  sinful  ways; 
and  when  one  is  cut  off,  and  cast  into  hell,  and  an- 
other snatched  away  from  among  them  to  the  same 
condemnation,  it  doth  not  much  daunt  them,  because 
they  see  not  whither  they  are  gone.  Poor  wretches, 
they  hold  on  in  their  ungodliness  for  all  this ;  for  they 
little  know  that  their  companions  are  now  lamenting 
it  in  torments.  In  Luke  16,  the  rich  man  in  hell  would 
fain  have  had  one  to  warn  his  five  brethren,  lest  they 
sliould  come  to  that  place  of  torment.  It  is  likely  he 
knew  their  minds  and  lives,  and  knew  that  they  were 


Dott.  6.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  121 

hasting  tliither,  and  little  dreamt  that  he  was  there, 
yea,  and  would  little  have  believed  one  that  should 
have  told  them  so.  I  remember  a  passage  that  a  gen- 
tleman,  yet  living,  told  me  he  saw  upon  a  bridge  over 
the  Severn  *  A  man  was  driving  a  flock  of  fat  lambs, 
and  sometliing  meeting  them,  and  hindering  their 
passage,  one  of  the  lambs  leapt  upon  the  wall  of  the 
bridge,  and  his  legs  slipping  from  under  him  he  fell 
into  the  stream ;  the  rest  seeing  him,  did,  one  after 
^ne,  leap  over  the  bridge  into  the  stream,  and  were  all 
-)T  almost  all  drowned.  Those  that  were  behind  did 
iittle  know  what  was  become  of  them  that  were  gone 
before ;  but  thought  they  might  venture  to  follow  their 
companions ;  but  as  soon  as  ever  they  were  over  the 
wall,  and  falling  headlong,  the  case  was  altered. 
Even  so  it  is  with  unconverted  carnal  men.  One  dieth 
by  them,  and  drops  into  hell,  and  another  follows  the 
same  way ;  and  yet  they  will  go  after  them,  because 
they  think  not  whither  they  are  gone.  O,  but  when 
death  hath  once  opened  their  eyes,  and  they  see  what 
is  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  even  in  another  world, 
then  what  would  they  give  to  be  where  they  were ! 

6.  Moreover,  they  have  a  subtle  malicious  enemy 
that  is  unseen  of  them,  and  plays  his  game  in  the 
dark ;  and  it  is  his  principal  business  to  hinder  their 
Conversion ;  and  therefore  to  keep  them  where  they 
are,  by  persuading  them  not  to  believe  the  Scriptures, 
or  not  to  trouble  their  minds  with  these  matters ;  or 
by  persuading  them  to  tliink  ill  of  a  godly  hfe,  or  to 
think  that  more  is  enjoined  than  need  be,  and  that 
they  may  be  saved  without  conversion,  and  without 
aU  this  stir ;  and  that  God  is  so  merciful  that  he  will 
not  damn  any  such  as  they ;  or  at  least,  that  they  may 

*  Mr  R.  Rowly,  of  Shrewsbury,  upou  Acham-Bridge. 
11 


122  A    CALL   TO  Doct.  7 

Stay  a  little  longer,  and  take  their  pleasure,  and  Ibl- 
loAv  the  world  a  little  longer  yet,  and  then  let  it  go, 
and  repent  hereafter.  And  by  such  juggling,  delud- 
ing cheats  as  these,  the  devil  keeps  the  most  in  hia 
captivity,  and  leadcth  them  to  his  misery. 

These,  and  such  like  impediments  as  these,  do  keep 
so  many  thousands  unconverted,  v.'hen  God  hath  done 
so  much,  and  Christ  hath  suffered  so  much,  and  mi- 
nisters have  said  so  much  for  their  conversion  :  when 
their  reasons  are  silenced  and  they  are  not  able  to 
answer  the  Lord  that  calls  after  them,  "  Turn  ye, 
turn  ye,  why  will  ye  die  ?"  yet  all  comes  to  nothing 
with  the  greatest  part  of  them ;  and  they  leave  us  no 
more  to  do  after  all,  but  to  sit  down  and  lament  their 
wilful  misery. 

I  have  now  shoAved  you  the  reasonableness  of  God's 
commands,  and  the  unreasonableness  of  wicked  men's 
disobedience.  If  nothing  will  serve  their  turn,  but 
men  will  yet  refuse  to  turn,  we  are  next  to  consider, 
who  is  in  fault  if  they  be  damned.  And  lliis  brings 
me  to  the  last  doctrine ;  which  is, 

DOCTRINE  VII. 

71mt  if  after  all  this  men  will  not  turn,  it  is  not  the 
fault  of  God  that  they  are  condemned^  hut  their 
&wn,  even  their  own  loilfidness.  They  die  he- 
cause  they  will.,  that  is^  because  they  will  not  turn. 

If  you  will  go  to  hell,  what  remedy  ?  God  here  ac- 
quits himself  of  your  blood ;  it  shall  not  lie  on  him  if 
you  be  lost.  A  negligent  minister  may  draw  it  upon 
him;  and  those  that  encourage  you  or  hinder  you 
not  in  sin,  may  draw  it  upon  them ;  but  be  sure  of  it, 
t  shall  not  lie  upon  God.     Saith  the  Lord,  concern- 


Doct.  7.  THE    UNCONVERTI^D.  123 

ing  his  unprofitable  vineyard :  (Isa.  5  :  1,  4,)  "  Judge, 
I  pray  j'ou,  betwixt  me  and  my  vineyard  :  wliat 
could  have  been  done  more  to  my  vineyard  that  I 
have  not  done  in  it  ?"  When  he  had  planted  it  in  a 
liuitlul  soil,  and  fenced  it,  and  gathered  out  the  stonea, 
and  planted  it  with  the  choicest  vines,  what  should  he 
have  done  more  to  it  ?  He  hath  made  you  men,  and 
endowed  you  with  reason ;  he  hath  furnished  you  with 
all  external  necessaries ;  all  creatures  are  at  your  ser- 
vice; he  hath  given  you  a  righteous  pei-fect  law. 
When  ye  had  broken  it,  and  undone  yourselves,  he 
had  pity  on  you,  and  sent  his  Son  by  a  miracle  of 
condescending  mercy  to  die  for  you,  and  be  a  sacrifice 
for  your  sins ;  and  he  was  in  Christ  reconciling  the 
world  to  himself! 

The  Lord  Jesus  hath  made  you  a  deed  of  gift  of 
himself,  and  eternal  hfe  with  him,  on  the  condition 
you  will  bat  accept  it,  and  return.  He  hath  on  this 
reasonable  condition  ofiered  you  the  free  pardon  of  all 
your  sins  !  he  hath  written  this  in  his  word,  and  sealed 
it  by  his  Spirit,  and  sent  it  by  his  ministers :  they 
iiave  made  the  offer  to  you  a  hundred  and  a  hundred 
times,  and  called  you  to  accept  it,  and  to  turn  to  God. 
They  have  in  his  name  entreated  you,  and  reasoned 
the  ca&e.  with  you,  and  answered  all  your  frivolous 
objections.  He  hath  long  waited  on  you,  and  staid 
your  leisure,  and  suffered  you  to  abuse  him  to  his 
liice !  He  hath  mercifully  sustained  you  in  the  midst 
of  your  sins ;  he  hath  compassed  you  about  with  all 
sorts  of  mercies ;  he  hath  also  intermixed  afflictions, 
to  remind  you  of  your  folly,  and  call  you  to  your 
senses,  and  his  Spirit  has  been  often  striving  with 
yoar  hearts,  and  saying  there,  "  Turn,  sinner,  turn 
to  him  that  calleth  thee  :    Whither  art  tliou  going? 


124  A    CALL   TO  Doct.  7. 

What  art  thou  doing  ?  Dost  thou  know  what  will  be 
the  end  ?  How  long  wilt  thou  hate  thy  friends,  and 
love  thine  enemies  ?  When  wilt  thou  let  go  all,  and 
turn  and  deliver  thyself  to  God,  and  give  thy  Re- 
deemer the  possession  of  thy  soul  ?  When  shall  it 
once  be?"  These  pleading^  have  been  used  with 
thee,  and  when  thou  hast  delayed,  thou  hast  been 
urged  to  make  haste,  and  God  hath  called  to  thee, 
"  To-day,  while  it  is  called  to-day,  harden  not  thy 
heart."  Why  not  now  without  any  more  delay? 
Life  hath  been  set  before  you ;  the  joys  of  heaven 
have  been  opened  to  you  in  the  Gospel ;  the  certainty 
of  them  hath  been  manifested ;  the  certainty  of  the 
everlasting  torments  of  the  damned  hath  been  de- 
clared to  you ;  unless  you  would  have  had  a  sight  of 
heaven  and  hell,  what  could  you  desire  more  ?  Christ 
hath  been,  as  it  were,  set  forth  crucified  before  your 
eyes.  Gal.  3  :  1.  You  have  been  a  hundred  times 
told  that  you  are  but  lost  men  till  you  come  unto  him ; 
as  oft  you  have  been  told  of  the  evil  of  sin,  of  the 
vanity  of  sin,  the  world,  and  all  the  pleasures  and 
wealth  it  can  afford ;  of  the  shortness  and  uncertainty 
of  your  lives,  and  the  endless  duration  of  the  joy  or 
torment  of  the  life  to  come.  All  this,  and  more  than 
this  have  you  been  told,  and  told  again,  even  till  you 
were  weary  of  hearing  it,  and  till  you  could  make 
the  lighter  of  it,  because  you  had  so  often  heard  it, 
like  the  smith's  dog,  that  is  brought  by  ciKtom  to 
sleep  under  the  noise  of  the  hammers  and  when  the 
Bparks  fly  about  his  ears ;  and  though  all  this  have 
not  converted  you,  yet  you  are  alive,  and  might  have 
mercy  to  this  day,  if  you  had  but  hearts  to  entertain 
it.  And  now  let  reason  itself  be  the  judge,  whether  it 
be  the  fault  of  God  or  yours,  if  after  this  you  will  bo 


Doct.  7.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  125 

unconverted  and  be  damned.  If  you  die  now,  it  is 
because  you  will  die.  What  should  be  said  more  to 
you,  or  what  course  should  be  taken  that  is  more  like- 
ly to  prevail '?  Are  you  able  to  say,  and  make  it  good, 
"  We  would  tain  have  been  converted  and  become  new 
creatures,  but  we  could  not ;  we  would  fain  have  for- 
saken our  sins,  but  we  could  not;  we  would  have 
changed  our  company,  and  our  thoughts,  and  our  dis- 
course, but  we  could  not."  Why  could  you  not,  if  you 
would  ?  What  hindered  you  but  the  wickedness  of 
your  hearts  ?  Who  forced  you  to  sin,  or  who  held  you 
back  from  duty?  Had  not  you  the  same  teaching, 
and  time,  and  liberty  to  be  godly,  as  your  godly  neigh- 
bors had  ?  Why  then  could  not  you  have  been  godly 
as  well  as  they  ?  Were  the  church  doors  shut  against 
you,  or  did  you  not  keep  away  yourselves,  or  sit  and 
sleep,  or  hear  as  if  you  did  not  hear  1  Did  God  put  in 
any  exceptions  against  you  in  his  word,  when  he  in- 
vited sinners  to  return  ;  and  when  he  promised  mercy 
to  those  that  do  return  ?  Did  he  say,  "  I  will  pardon 
all  that  repent  except  thee  ?"  Did  he  shut  thee  out 
from  the  liberty  of  his  holy  worship  ?  Did  he  forbid 
you  to  pray  to  him  any  more  than  others  7  You  know 
he  did  not.  God  did  not  drive  you  away  from  him, 
but  you  forsook  him,  and  ran  away  yourselves,  and 
when  he  called  you  to  him,  you  would  not  come.  If 
God  had  excepted  you  out  of  the  general  promise  and 
offer  of  mercy,  or  had  said  to  you,  "  Stand  off,  1  will 
have  nothing  to  do  with  such  as  you ;  pray  not  to  me, 
for  I  will  not  hear  you  ;  if  you  repent  never  so  much, 
and  cry  for  mercy  never  so  much,  I  will  not  regard 
you."  If  God  had  left  you  nothing  to  trust  to  but  des- 
peration, then  you  had  had  a  fair  excuse ;  you  might 
have  said,  "  To  what  end  do  I  repent  and  tum,  when 
11* 


126  A   CALL  TO  Doct.  7 

it  will  do  no  good  ?"  But  this  was  not  your  case :  you 
might  have  had  Christ  to  be  your  Lord  and  Savior, 
your  head  and  husband,  as  well  as  others,  and  you 
would  not,  because  you  felt  yourselves  not  sick  enough 
for  the  physician :  and  because  you  could  not  spare 
your  disease.  In  your  hearts  you  said  as  those  rebels, 
Luke,  19  :  14,  "  We  will  not  have  this  man  to  reign 
over  us."  Christ  would  have  gathered  you  under 
the  wings  of  his  salvation,  and  you  would  not.  Matt. 
23  :  37.  What  desires  of  your  welfare  did  the  Lord 
express  in  his  holy  word  ?  With  what  compassion 
did  he  stand  over  you,  and  say,  "  O  that  my  people 
had  hearkened  unto  me,  and  that  they  had  walked  in 
my  ways!"  Psalm  17  :  13;  76  :  13,  "  O  that  there 
were  such  a  heart  in  this  people,  that  they  would  fear 
me,  and  keep  all  my  commandments  always,  that  it 
might  be  well  with  them  and  with  their  children  for 
ever !"  Deut.  5  :  29,  "  O  that  they  were  wise,  that 
they  understood  this,  that  they  would  consider  their 
latter  end !"  Deut.  32 :  29.  He  would  have  been  your 
God,  and  done  all  for  you  that  your  souls  could  well 
desire  :  but  you  loved  the  world  and  your  flesh  above 
him,  and  therefore  you  would  not  hearken  to  him : 
though  you  complimented  him,  and  gave  him  high 
titles ;  yet  when  it  came  to  the  closing,  you  would 
have  none  of  him.  Psalm  81 :  11, 12.  No  marvel  then 
if  he  gave  you  up  to  your  own  hearts'  lusts,  and  you 
walked  in  your  own  counsels.  He  condescends  to  rea- 
son, and  pleads  the  case  with  you,  and  asks  you, 
"  What  is  there  in  me,  or  my  service,  that  you  should 
DC  so  much  against  me  ?  What  harm  have  I  done 
thee,  sinner  ?  Have  I  deserved  this  unkind  deahng  at 
thy  hand?  Many  mercies  have  I  showed  thee:  for 
which  of  them  dost  thou  thus  despise  me  ?    Is  it  I,  or 


Doct.  7.  THE  UNCONVERTED,  127 

is  it  satan,  that  is  thy  enemy?  Is  it  I,  or  is  it  thy 
carnal  self  that  would  undo  thee  ?  Is  it  a  holy  life, 
or  a  life  of  sin  that  thou  hast  cause  to  fly  from  ?  If 
thou  be  undone,  thou  procurest  this  to  thyself,  by  for- 
saking me,  the  Lord  that  would  have  saved  thee." 
Jer.  2:7.  "  Doth  not  thy  own  wickedness  correct 
thee,  and  thy  sin  reprove  thee  ?  Thou  may  est  see  that 
it  is  an  evil  and  bitter  thing  that  thou  hast  forsaken 
me."  Jer.  2  :  19.  "  What  iniquity  have  you  found 
in  me  that  you  have  followed  after  vanity,  and  for- 
saken me  ?"  Jer.  2  :  5,  6.  He  calleth  out,  as  it  were, 
to  the  brutes,  to  hear  the  controversy  he  hath  against 
you.  Mic.  2  ;  3,  5,  "  Hear,  O  ye  mountains,  the  Lord's 
controversy,  and  ye  strong  foundations  of  the  earth ; 
for  the  Lord  hath  a  controversy  with  his  people,  and 
he  will  plead  with  Israel.  O  my  people,  what  have 
I  done  unto  thee,  and  wherein  have  I  wearied  thee  ? 
testify  against  me,  for  I  brought  thee  up  out  of  Egypt, 
and  redeemed  thee."  "  Hear,  O  heavens,  and  give 
ear,  O  earth,  for  the  Lord  hath  spoken.  I  have  nou- 
rished and  brought  up  children,  and  they  have  rebell- 
ed against  me.  The  ox  knoweth  his  owner,  and  the 
ass  his  master's  crib ;  but  Israel  doth  not  know,  my 
people  doth  not  consider !  Ah  sinful  nation,  a  people 
laden  with  iniquity,  a  seed  of  evil  rioers  !"  &c.  Isaiah, 
I  :  2,  4.  "  Do  you  thus  requite  the  Lord,  O  fooHsh 
people,  and  unwise?  Is  not  he  thy  Father  that  bought 
thee?  Hath  he  not  made  thee,  and  established  thee?" 
Deut.  32  :  6.  When  he  saw  that  you  forsook  him, 
even  for  nothing,  and  turned  away  from  the  Lord  of 
life  to  hunt  after  the  chaff  and  feathers  of  the  world, 
he  told  you  of  your  folly,  and  called  you  to  a  more 
profitable  employment,  Isaiah,  55  :  1,  3.  "  Where- 
fore do  ye  spend  your  money  for  that  which  is  no* 


128  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  7 

bread,  and  your  labor  for  that  which  satisfieth  not? 
Hearken  diligently  unto  me,  and  eat  ye  that  which  is 
good,  and  let  your  soul  delight  itself  in  fatness.  In- 
cline your  ear,  and  come  unto  me;  hear,  and  your 
soul  shall  live;  and  I  will  make  an  everlasting  cove- 
nant with  you,  even  the  sure  mercies  of  David. 
Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  he  may  be  found :  call  ye 
upon  him  while  he  is  near.  Let  the  wicked  forsake 
his  way,  and  the  unrighteous  man  his  thoughts,  and 
let  him  return  unto  the  I^ord,  and  he  will  have  mercy 
upon  him ;  and  to  our  God,  for  he  will  abundantly 
pardon ;"  and  so  Isa.  1 :  16 — 18,  And  when  you  would 
not  hear,  what  complaints  have  you  put  him  to,  charg- 
ing it  on  you  as  your  wilfulness  and  stubbornness. 
Jer.  2  :  13,  13.  "Be  astonished,  O  heavens,  at  this, 
and  be  horribly  afraid ;  for  my  people  have  committed 
two  evils;  they  have  forsaken  me,  the  fountain  of 
living  waters,  and  hewed  them  out  cisterns,  broken 
cisterns,  that  can  hold  no  water."  Many  a  time  hath 
Christ  proclaimed  that  free  invitation  to  you.  Rev. 
22  :  17,  "  Let  him  that  is  athirst  come,  and  whosoever 
will,  let  him  take  the  water  of  life  freely."  But  you 
put  him  to  complain,  after  all  his  offers,  "  They  will 
not  come  to  me,  that  they  may  have  life."  John,  5  : 
40.  He  hath  invited  you  to  feast  with  him  in  the 
kingdom  of  his  grace,  and  you  have  had  excuses 
from  your  grounds,  and  j'-our  cattle,  and  your  worldly 
business ;  and  when  you  would  not  come,  you  have 
said  you  could  not,  and  provoked  him  to  resolve  that 
you  should  never  taste  of  his  supper.  Luke,  14  :  16 — 
25.  And  who  is  it  the  fault  of  now  but  yourselves  ? 
and  what  can  you  say  is  the  chief  cause  of  your  dam- 
nation but  your  own  wills?  you  would  be  damned. 
The  whole  case  is  laid  open  by  Christ  himself.  Prov. 


Doct.  7.  THE   UNCONVERTED.         '  120 

1 :  20—33.  "  Wisdom  crieth  without,  she  utterelh  her 
voice  in  the  streets ;  she  crieth  in  the  chief  place  of 
concourse — How  long,  ye  simple  ones,  will  ye  love 
simplicity,  and  the  scorners  dehght  in  their  scorning, 
and  fools  hate  Imowledge  ?  Turn  ye  at  my  reproof. 
Behold,  I  wdl  pour  out  my  Spirit  upon  you,  I  will 
make  knoAvn  my  words  unto  you.  Because  I  have 
called,  and  ye  refused.  I  have  stretched  out  my 
hands  and  no  man  regarded;  but  ye  have  set  at 
naught  all  my  counsels,  and  would  none  of  my  re- 
proofs. I  also  will  laugh  at  your  calamity,  I  will 
mock  when  your  fear  cometh :  when  your  fear  cometh 
as  desolation,  and  your  destruction  cometh  as  a  whirl- 
wind ;  when  distress  and  anguish  cometh  upon  you, 
then  shall  they  call  upon  me,  but  I  will  not  answer  j 
they  shall  seek  me  early,  but  they  shall  not  find  me, 
for  that  they  hated  knowledge,  and  did  not  choose  the 
fear  of  the  Lord.  They  would  none  of  my  counsels ; 
they  despised  all  my  reproofs;  therefore  shall  they  eat 
of  the  fruit  of  their  own  way,  and  be  filled  with  their 
own  devices.  For  the  turning  away  of  the  simple 
shall  slay  them,  and  the  prosperity  of  fools  shall  de- 
stroy them.  But  Avhoso  hearkeneth  to  me  shall  dwell 
safely,  and  shall  be  quiet  from  the  fear  of  evil."  I 
thought  best  to  recite  the  whole  text  at  large  to  you, 
because  it  doth  so  fully  show  the  cause  of  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  wicked.  It  is  not  because  God  would  not 
teach  them,  but  because  they  would  not  learn.  It  is 
not  because  God  would  not  call  them,  but  because 
they  would  not  turn  at  his  reproof.  Their  wilfulness 
is  their  undoing. 

Use. — From  what  hath  been  said,  you  may  farther 
learn  these  following  things  :  i 

1.  From  hence  you  may  see,  not  only  wliat  bias- 


130  A    CALL   TO  Poot.  7 

phemy  and  impiety  it  is  to  lay  the  Manic  of  nicii's 
destruction  upon  God,  but  also  how  unfit  these  \vicl<ed 
wretches  are  to  bring  in  such  a  charge  against  their 
Maker!  They  cry  out  upon  God,  and  say  he  gives 
them  not  grace,  and  his  threatenings  are  severe,  and 
God  forbid  that  all  should  be  condemned  that  be  not 
converted  and  sanctified ;  and  they  think  it  hard 
measure  that  a  short  sin  should  have  an  endless  sut- 
lering;  and  if  they  be  damned  they  say  tliey  cannot 
help  it,  when,  in  the  meantime,  they  are  busy  about 
their  own  destruction,  even  the  destmction  of  their 
own  souls,  and  will  not  be  persuaded  to  hold  their 
hands.  They  think  God  Avere  cruel  if  he  should  con- 
demn them,  and  yet  thej'  are  so  cruel  to  themselves 
that  they  will  i-un  into  the  fire  of  hell,  v.'hen  God  hath 
told  them  it  is  a  little  before  them;  and  neither  en- 
treaties, nor  threatenings,  nor  any  thing  that  can  be 
said,  will  stop  them.  We  see  them  almost  undone ; 
their  careless,  worldly,  fleshly  hves,  tell  us  that  they 
are  in  the  power  of  the  devil ;  we  know,  if  they  die 
before  they  are  converted,  all  the  world  cannot  save 
them;  and  knowing  the  uncertainty  of  their  lives,  we 
are  afraid  every  day  lest  they  drop  into  the  fire;  and 
therefore  we  entreat  them  to  pity  their  own  souls,  and 
not  to  undo  themselves  when  mercy  is  at  Uand,  and 
they  will  not  hear  us.  We  entreat  them  to  cast  away 
their  sin,  and  come  to  Christ  without  delay,  and  to 
have  some  mercy  on  themselves,  but  they  will  have 
none;  and  yet  they  think  that  God  must  be  cruel  if 
he  condemn  them.  O  wilful  miserable  sinners!  it  is 
not  God  that  is  cruel  to  you,  it  is  you  that  are  cruel 
to  yourselves;  you  are  told  you  must  turn  or  burn, 
and  yet  you  turn  not.  You  are  told,  that  if  you  will 
needs  keep  your  sins,  you  shall  keep  the  cui-se  of  God 


Dcct.  7.  THE    UNCONVERTED.  131 

with  them,  and  yet  you  will  keep  them.  You  are  told 
that  there  is  no  way  to  happiness  but  by  hohness,  and 
yet  you  will  not  be  holy.  What  would  you  have  God 
say  more  to  you  ?  What  would  you  have  him  do  with 
his  mercy?  He  oflfereth  it  to  j^ou,  and  you  will  not 
have  it.  You  are  in  the  ditch  of  sin  and  misery,  and 
he  would  give  you  his  hand  to  help  you  out,  and  you 
refuse  liis  help ;  he  would  cleanse  you  of  your  sins, 
and  you  had  rather  keep  them ;  you  love  your  lust, 
and  love  your  gluttony,  and  sports,  and  drunkenness, 
and  will  not  let  them  go ;  would  you  have  him  bring 
you  to  heaven  whether  you  will  or  not  ?  Or  would 
yjiiu  have  him  bring  you  and  your  sins  to  heaven 
together  1  Why  that  is  an  impossibility ;  you  may  aa. 
ivell  expect  he  should  turn  the  sun  into  darkness. 
What !  an  unsanctified  fleshly  heart  be  in  heaven? 
it  cannot  be.  There  entereth  nothing  that  is  unclean. 
Rev.  21 :  17.  "  For  what  communion  hath  light  with 
darkness,  or  Christ  with  Behal?"  2  Cor.  6  :  14,  15. 
"  All  the  day  long  hath  he  stretched  out  his  hands  to 
a  disobedient  and  gainsaying  people."  Rom.  10  :  21. 
What  will  you  do  now?  Will  you  cry  to  God  for 
mercy  ?  Why,  God  calleth  upon  you  to  have  mercy 
upon  yourselves,  and  you  will  not !  Ministers  see  the 
poisoned  cup  in  the  drunlcard's  hand,  and  tell  him 
there  is  poison  in  it,  and  desire  him  to  have  mercy  on 
his  soul,  and  forbear,  and  he  will  not  hear  us !  Drink 
it  he  must  and  will ;  he  loves  it,  and,  therefore,  though 
hell  comes  next,  he  saith  he  cannot  help  it.  What 
should  one  say  to  such  men  as  these?  We  tell  the 
imgodly  careless  worldling,  it  is  not  such  a  life  that 
Avill  serve  the  turn,  or  ever  bring  you  to  heaven.  If 
a  lion  were  at  your  back  you  would  mend  your  pace ; 
when  the  curse  of  God  is  at  your  back,  and  satan 


132  A  CALL  TO  Doct.  7 

and  JicU  arc  at  your  back,  will  you  not  stir,  but 
ask,  What  needs  of  all  tliis  ado?  Is  an  immortal 
soul  of  no  more  worth  ?  O  have  mercy  upon  your- 
selves! But  they  will  have  no  mercy  on  them- 
selves, nor  once  regard  us.  We  tell  them  the  end  will 
be  bitter.  Who  can  dwell  with  the  everlasting  fire  7 
And  yet  they  will  have  no  mercy  on  themselves. 
And  yet  will  these  shameless  transgressors  say,  that 
God  is  more  merciful  than  to  condemn  them,  when  il 
is  themselves  that  cruelly  and  unmercifully  run  upon 
condemnation  ;  and  if  we  should  go  to  them,  and  en- 
treat them,  we  cannot  stop  them ;  if  we  should  fall 
on  our  knees  to  them  we  cannot  stop  them,  but  to  hell 
they  will  go,  and  yet  will  not  believe  that  they  are 
going  thither.  If  we  beg  of  them  for  the  sake  of  God 
that  made  them,  and  preserveth  them ;  lor  the  sake 
of  Christ  that  died  for  them;  for  the  sake  of  their 
own  souls  to  pity  themselves,  and  go  no  further  in  the 
way  to  hell,  but  come  to  Christ  while  his  arms  arc 
open,  and  enter  into  the  state  of  life  while  the  dooi* 
stands  open,  and  now  take  mercy  while  mercy  may 
be  had,  they  will  not  be  persuaded.  If  we  should 
die  for  it,  we  cannot  so  much  as  get  them  now  and 
then  to  consider  with  themselves  of  the  matter,  and 
turn;  and  yet  they  can  say,  "  I  hope  God  will  be 
merciful.''  Did  you  never  consider  what  he  saith, 
Isa.  27  til,  "  It  is  a  people  of  no  understanding; 
therefore,  he  that  made  them  will  not  have  mercy  on 
tliem,  and  he  that  formed  them  will  show  them  no 
favor."  If  another  man  will  not  clothe  you  when 
you  are  naked,  and  feed  you  when  you  are  hungry, 
you  will  say  he  is  unmerciful.  If  he  should  cast  you 
into  prJson,  or  beat  and  torment  you,  you  Would  say 
he  is  mmierciful :  and  yet  you  will  do  a  thousand 


P<^^-^-  THE  UNCONVERTED.  133 

times  more  against  yourselves,  even  cast  away  both 
soul  and  body  for  ever,  and  never  complain  of  your 
own  unmercifulness !  Yea,  and  God  that  waited  upon 
you  all  the  while  with  his  mercy,  must  be  taken  to 
be  unmerciful^  if  he  punish  you  after  all  this.  Unices 
the  holy  God  of  heaven  will  give  these  wretches 
leave  to  trample  upon  his  Son's  blood,  and  with  the 
Jews,  as  it  were,  again  to  spit  in  his  face,  and  do  des- 
pite to  the  spirit  of  grace,  and  make  a  jest  of  sin,  and 
a  mock  at  holiness,  and  set  more  hght  by  saving 
mercy  than  by  the  filth  of  their  fleshly  pleasures;  and 
unless,  after  all  this,  he  will  save  them  by  the  mercy 
which  they  cast  away,  and  would  have  none  of,  God 
himself  must  be  called  unmerciful  by  them  I  But  he 
will  be  justified  when  he  judgeth,  and  he  will  not 
etand  or  fall  at  the  bar  of  a  sinful  worm, 

I  know  tliere  are  many  particular  cavils  that  are 
brought  by  them  against  the  Lord ;  but  I  shall  not 
here  stay  to  answer  them  particularly,  having  done 
it  already  in  my  Treatise  of  Judgment,  to  which  I 
shall  refer  them.  Had  the  disputing  part  of  the  world 
been  as  careful  to  avoid  sin  and  destruction  as  they 
have  been  busy  in  searching  after  the  cause  of  them, 
and  forward  indirectly  to  impute  them  to  God,  they 
might  have  exercised  their  wits  more  profitably,  and 
have  less  wronged  God,  and  sped  better  themselves.- 
When  so  ugly  a  monster  as  sin  is  within  us,  and  ea 
heavy  a  thing  as  punishment  is  on  us,  and  so  dreadful 
a  thing  as  hell  is  before  us,  one  would  think  it  should 
be  an  easy  question  who  is  in  the  fault ;  whether  God 
or  mail  be  the  principal  or  culpable  cause  ?  Some 
men  are  such  favorable  judges  of  themselves,  that 
they  are  more  prone  to  accuse  tlie  infinite  perfection 
and  goodnefcs  itself,  than  their  own  hearts,  and  imiti»,te 
12 


13'J:  A   CALL   TO  Docl.  7. 

their  first  parents,  that  said,  "  The  serpent  tempted 
me  ;  and  tlie  woman  that  thou  gavest  me  gave  unto 
me,  and  I  did  eat ;"  secretly  implying  that  God  waa 
the  cause.  So  say  they,  "  The  understanding  that 
thou  gavest  me  was  unable  to  discern ;  the  will  that 
thou  gavest  me  was  unable  to  make  a  better  choice ; 
the  objects  which  thou  didst  set  before  me  did  entice 
me ;  the  temptations  which  thou  didst  permit  to  assault 
me  prevailed  against  me."  And  some  are  so  loth  to 
think  that  God  can  make  a  self-determining  creature, 
that  they  dare  not  deny  him  that  which  tl>ey  take  to 
be  his  prerogative,  to  be  the  determiner  of  the  will  in 
every  sin,  as  the  first  efficient  immediate  physical 
cause ;  and  many  could  be  content  to  acquit  Grod  from 
60  much  causing  of  evil,  if  they  could  but  reconcile  it 
with  his  being  the  chief  cause  of  good ;  as  if  truths 
would  be  no  longer  truths  than  we  are  able  to  see 
them  in  their  perfect  order  and  coherence ;  because 
our  ravelled  wits  cannot  see  them  right  together,  nor 
assign  each  truth  its  proper  place,  we  presume  to  con- 
clude that  some  must  be  cast  away.  This  is  the  fruit 
of  proud  self-conceitedness,  when  men  receive  not 
God's  truth  as  a  child  his  lesson,  in  holy  submission  to 
the  omniscience  of  our  Teacher,  but  censurers  that 
are  too  wise  to  learn. 

Objection.  But  we  cannot  convert  ourselves  till 
God  convert  us;  we  can  do  nothing  without  his 
grace;  it  is  not  in  him  that  willeth,  nor  in  him  tliat 
runneth,  but  in  God  that  showeth  mcxy. 

Answ,  I.  Grod  hath  two  degrees  of  mercy  to  show; 
the  mercy  of  conversion  first,  and  the  mercy  of  salva- 
tion last ;  the  latter  he  will  give  to  none  but  those 
that  loill  and  imii,  and  hath  promised  it  to  them  only. 
The  former  is  to  make  them  willin^f  that  are  unw  J- 


Doct.  7.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  135 

ling ;  and  though  your  own  wilHngness  and  endeavors 
deserve  not  his  grace,  yet  your  wilful  refusal  deserveth 
that  it  should  be  denied  to  you.  Your  disabihty  is 
your  very  unwillingness  itself,  which  excuseth  not 
your  sin,  but  maketh  it  the  greater.  You  could  turn 
if  you  were  but  truly  willing ;  and  if  your  wills  them- 
selves are  so  corrupted  that  nothing  but  effectual  grace 
will  move  them,  you  have  the  more  cause  to  seek  for 
that  grace,  and  yield  to  it,  and  do  what  you  can  in 
the  use  of  means,  and  not  neglect  it  and  set  yourself 
against  it.  Do  what  you  are  able  first,  and  then  com- 
plain of  God  for  denying  you  grace,  if  you  have 
cause. 

Object.  But  you  seem  to  intimate  all  this  while 
that  man  hath  free  will. 

Answ.  1.  The  dispute  about  free  will  is  beyond 
your  capacity ;  I  shall,  therefore,  now  trouble  you  with 
no  more  but  this  about  it.  Your  will  is  naturally  a  free, 
that  is,  a  self-determining  faculty ;  but  it  is  viciously 
inclined,  and  backward  to  do  good ;  and  therefore  we 
see,  by  sad  experience,  that  it  hath  not  a  virtuous 
moral  freedom ;  but  that  it  is  the  wickedness  of  it 
which  procures  the  punishment ;  and  I  pray  you  let 
us  not  befool  ourselves  with  opinions.  Let  the  case  be 
your  own.  If  you  had  an  enemy  that  was  so  mali- 
cious as  to  fall  upon  you  and  beat  you,  or  take  away 
the  lives  of  your  children,  would  you  excuse  him  be- 
cause he  said  I  have  not  free  will ;  it  is  my  nature,  1 
cannot  choose  unless  God  give  me  grace?  If  you  had 
a  servant  that  robbed  you,  would  you  take  such  an 
answer  from  him  ?  Might  not  every  thief  and  mur- 
derer that  is  hanged  at  the  assize  give  such  an  an- 
swer :  I  have  not  free  will ;  I  cannot  change  my  own 
heart;  what  can  I  do  without  God's  grace?  and  shall 


136  A  CALL   TO  Doct.  T. 

they  therefore  be  acquitted?  If  not,  why  then  should 
you  think  to  be  ax^quittcd  for  a  course  of  sin  against 
the  Lord? 

2.  From  hence  ab?o  you  may  observe  these  three 
things  together: — 1.  What  a  subtle  tempter  Satan  is. 
2.  What  a  deceitful  thing  sin  is.  3.  What  a  foohsh 
creature  corrupted  man  is.  A  subtle  tempter,  indeed, 
that  can  persuade  the  greatest  part  of  the  world  to 
go  into  everlasting  fire,  when  they  have  so  many 
warnings  and  dissuasives  as  they  have  I  A  deceitful 
thing  is  sin,  indeed,  that  can  bewitch  so  many  thou- 
sands to  part  with  everlasting  life  for  a  thing  so  base 
and  utterly  unworthy !  A  foolish  creature  is  man,  in- 
deed, that  will  be  cheated  of  his  salvation  for  nothing, 
yea,  for  a  known  nothing ;  and  that  by  an  enemy,  and 
a  known  enemy.  You  would  think  it  impossible  that 
any  man  in  his  wits  should  be  persuaded  for  a  little  to 
cast  himself  into  the  fire,  or  water,  or  into  a  coal-pit, 
to  the  destruction  of  his  life ;  and  yet  men  will  be 
enticed  to  east  themselves  into  hell.  If  your  natural 
lives  were  in  your  own  hands,  that  you  should  not  die 
till  you  would  kill  yourselves,  how  long  would  most 
of  you  live  1  And  yet,  when  your  everlasting  life  is  so 
far  in  your  own  hands,  under  God,  that  you  cannot 
be  undone  till  you  undo  yourselves,  how  few  of  you 
will  forbear  j^ur  OAvn  undoing?  Ah,  what  a  billy 
thing  is  man !  and  what  a  bewitching  and  befooling 
thing  is  sin ! 

3.  From  hence,  also,  you  may  learn,  that  it  is  no 
great  wonder  if  wicked  men  be  hinderers  of  others  ip 
the  way  to  heaven,  and  would  have  as  many  uncon- 
verted as  they  can,  and  would  draw  them  into  sin 
and  keep  them  in  it.  Can  y3u  expect  that  they 
flhouid  have  mercy  on  others,  that  have  none  upon 


Doct.  Z  THE   UNCONVERTED.  137 

themselves?  and  that  they  should  hesitate  much  at 
the  destruction  of  others,  that  hesitate  not  to  destroy 
themselves?  They  do  no  worse  by  others  than  they 
do  by  themselves. 

4.  Lastly,  You  may  hence  learn  that  the  greatest 
enemy  to  man  is  himself;  and  the  greatest  judgment 
in  this  life  that  can  befall  him,  is  to  be  left  to  him- 
self; that  the  great  work  that  grace  hath  to  do,  is  to 
save  us  from  ourselves ;  that  the  greatest  accusations 
and  complaints  of  men  should  be  against  themselves ; 
that  the  greatest  work  that  we  have  to  do  ourselves, 
is  to  resist  ourselves ;  and  the  greatest  enemy  that 
we  should  daily  pray,  and  watch,  and  strive  against, 
is  our  own  carnal  hearts  and  wills;  and  the  greatest 
part  of  your  work,  if  you  would  do  good  to  others,  and 
help  them  to  heaven,  is  to  save  them  from  them- 
selves, even  from  their  blind  understandings,  and 
corrupted  wills,  and  perverse  affections,  and  violent 
passions,  and  unruly  senses.  I  only  name  all  these 
for  brevity's  sake,  and  leave  them  to  your  further 
consideration. 

Well,  sirs,  now  we  have  found  out  the  great  delin  • 
quent  and  murderer  of  souls,  (even  men's  selves,  their 
own  wills,)  what  remains  but  that  you  judge  accord- 
ing to  the  evidence,  and  confess  this  great  iniquity 
before  the  Lord,  and  be  humbled  for  it,  and  do  so  no 
more  ?  To  these  three  ends  distinctly,  I  shall  add  a 
few  words  more.  L  Further  to  convince  you.  2.  To 
humble  you.  And,  3.  To  reform  you,  if  there  yet 
be  any  hope. 

L  We  know  so  much  of  the  exceeding  gracious 

nature  of  God,  who  is  willing  to  do  good,  and  de- 

liglueth  to  show  mercy,  that  we  have  no  reason  to 

suspect  him  of  being  the  culpable  cause  of  our  death, 

12* 


138  A  CALL  TO  Doct.  7. 

or  to  call  him  crael ;  he  made  all  good,  and  he  pre- 
serveth  and  maintaineth  all ;  the  eyes  of  all  wait 
upon  him,  and  he  giveth  them  their  meat  in  due 
season;  he  openeth  his  hand,  and  satisfieth  the  de- 
sires of  all  the  living.  Psalm  145  :  15,  16.  He  is  not 
only  righteous  in  all  his  ways,  and  therefore  will  deal 
justly ;  and  holy  in  all  his  works,  and  therefore  not 
the  author  of  sin,  but  he  is  also  good  to  all,  and  his 
tender  mercies  are  over  all  his  works.  Psalm  145  : 
17,  19. 

But  a<3  for  man,  we  know  his  mind  is  dark,  his  will 
perverse,  and  his  aflections  carry  him  so  headlong, 
that  he  is  fitted  by  his  folly  and  corruption  to  such  a 
work  as  the  destroying  of  himself  If  you  saw  a 
lamb  he  killed  in  the  way,  would  you  sooner  suspect 
the  sheep,  or  the  wolf  to  be  the  author  of  it,  if  they 
both  stand  by?  Or  if  you  see  a  house  broken  open, 
and  the  people  murdered,  would  you  sooner  suspect 
the  prince  or  judge,  that  is  wise  and  just,  and  had  no 
need,  or  a  known  thief  or  murderer  ?  I  say,  therefore, 
as  James,  1  :  13 — 15,  "  Let  no  man  say,  when  he  is 
tempted,  that  he  is  tempted  of  God,  for  God  cannot 
be  tempted  with  evil,  neither  tempteth  he  any  man, 
(to  draw  him  to  sin,)  but  every  man  is  tempted  when 
he  is  draAvn  away  of  his  own  lust  and  enticed.  Then 
when  lust  hath  conceived,  it  bringeth  forth  sin  ;  and 
sin,  when  it  is  finished,  bringeth  forth  death."  You 
see  here  that  sin  is  the  oflspring  of  your  own  concu- 
piscence, and  not  to  be  charged  on  God ;  and  that 
death  is  the  offspring  of  your  own  sin,  and  the  fruit 
which  it  will  yield  you  as  soon  as  it  is  ripe.  You 
have  a  treasure  of  evil  in  yourselves,  as  a  sjuderhath 
of  poison,  from  whence  you  are  bringing  forth  hurt 
to  yourselves,  and  spinning  such  webs  as  entangle 


Doct.  7.  THE    UNCONVERTED.  189 

your  own  souls.  Your  nature  shows  it  is  you  that  arc 
the  cause. 

2.  It  is  evident  that  you  are  your  own  destroyers, 
in  that  you  are  so  ready  to  entertain  any  temptation 
almost  that  is  offered  to  you.  Satan  is  scarcely  more 
ready  to  move  you  to  any  evil,  than  you  are  ready 
to  hear,  and  to  do  as  he^would  have  you.  If  he  would 
tempt  your  understanding  to  error  and  prejudice,  you 
yield.  If  he  would  hinder  you  from  good  resolutions, 
it  is  soon  done.  If  he  would  cool  any  good  desires  or 
affections,  it  is  soon  done.  If  he  would  kindle  any 
lust,  or  vile  affections  and  desires  in  you,  it  is  soon 
done.  If  he  will  put  you  on  to  evil  thoughts,  or  deeds, 
you  are  so  free  that  he  needs  no  rod  or  spur.  If  he 
would  keep  you  from  holy  thoughts,  and  words,  and 
ways,  a  little  doth  it,  you  need  no  curb.  You  examine 
not  his  suggestions,  nor  resist  them  with  any  resolu- 
tion, nor  cast  them  out  as  he  casts  them  in,  nor  quench 
the  sparks  which  he  endeavoreth  to  kindle  ;  but  you 
set  in  with  him,  and  meet  him  half  w^ay,  and  em- 
brace his  motions,  and  tempt  him  to  tempt  you.  And 
it  is  easy  for  him  to  catch  such  greedy  fish  that  are 
ranging  for  a  bait,  and  wnll  take  the  bare  hook. 

3.  Your  destruction  is  evidently  of  yourselves,  in  that 
you  resist  all  that  woiild  help  to  save  you,  and  would 
do  you  good,  or  hinder  you  from  undoing  yourselves. 
God  would  help  and  save  you  by  his  word,  and  you 
resist  it ;  it  is  too  stxict  for  you.  He  w^ould  sanctify 
you  by  his  Spirit,  and  you  resist  and  quench  it.  If 
any  man  reprove  you  for  your  sin,  you  fly  in  his  face 
with  evil  words  ;  and  if  he  would  draw  you  to  a  holy 
life,  and  tell  you  of  your  present  danger,  you  give 
l\im  little  thanks,  but  either  bid  him  look  to  himself, 
he  shall  not  answer  for  you ;  or  at  best  you  put  him  ofT 


140  A    CALL   TO  Doct.7 

with  heartless  thanks,  and  will  not  turn  when  you  are 
persuaded.  It"  ministers  would  privately  instruct  and 
help  you.  you  will  not  come  to  them  ;  your  unhumbled 
souls  feel  but  little  need  of  their  help ;  if  they  would 
catechise  you,  you  are  too  old  to  be  catechised,  though 
you  are  not  too  old  to  be  igno:-ant  and  unholy.  What 
ever  they  can  say  to  you  for  your  good,  you  are  so 
self-conceited  and  wise  in  your  own  eyes,  even  in  the 
depth  ot"  ignorance,  that  you  will  regard  nothing  that 
agreeth  not  with  your  present  conceits,  but  contradict 
your  teachers,  as  if  you  were  wiser  than  they ;  you 
resist  all  tliat  they  can  say  to  you,  by  your  ignorance, 
and  wilfulness,  and  foolish  cavils,  and  shifting  eva- 
sions, and  unthankful  rejections,  so  that  no  good  that 
is  offered  can  find  any  welcome  acceptance  and  enter- 
tainment with  you. 

4.  Moreover,  it  is  apparent  that  you  are  self-de- 
stroyers, in  that  you  "  draw  the  matter  of  your  sin 
and  destruction  even  from  the  blessed  God  himself." 
You  like  not  the  contrivances  of  his  wisdom ;  you 
like  not  his  justice,  but  take  it  for  cruelty ;  you  like 
not  his  holiness,  but  are  ready  to  think  he  is  such  a 
one  as  yourselves,  (Psalm  1  :  21.)  and  makes  as  Ight 
of  sin  as  you  do ;  you  like  not  his  truth,  but  would 
have  his  threatenings,  even  his  peremptory  threaten- 
ings.  prove  false ;  and  his  goodness,  which  you  seem 
irK)st  highly  to  approve,  you  partly  resist,  as  it  would 
lead  you  to  repentance ;  and  partly  abuse,  to  the 
strengthening  of  your  sin,  as  if  you  might  more  free- 
ly sin  because  God  is  merciftil,  and  because  his  grace 
dotli  GO  much  abound, 

5.  Vea,  you  fetch  destruction  I'rom  the  blessed  Re- 
deemer, and  death  from  the  Lord  of  life  himself!  and 
no-j^irig  more   emboldeneth  you  in  sin,  than   tliat 


Ooct,  7.  THE  CNCONVERTEB.  141 

Christ  liath  died  for  you;  as  if  now  the  danger  of 
death  were  over,  and  you  might  boldly  venture ;  as 
if  Christ  were  become  a  serv'ant  to  satan  and  your 
eins,  and  must  wait  upon  you  while  you  ai-e  abusing 
him ;  and  because  he  is  become  the  Physician  of  souls, 
and  is  able  to  save  to  tlie  uttermost  all  that  come  to 
God  by  him,  you  think  he  must  suffer  you  to  refuse 
iais  help,  and  throw  away  his  medicines,  and  must 
eave  you  whether  you  will  come  to  God  by  him  or 
not:  so  that  a  great  part  of  your  sins  are  occasioned 
by  your  bold  presumption  upon  the  death  of  Christ, 
not  coasidering  that  he  came  to  redeem  his  people 
from  their  sins,  and  to  sanctify  them  a  pecuhar  people 
to  himself,  and  to  conform  them  in  holiness  to  the 
image  of  their  heavenly  Father,  and  to  their  head- 
Matt.  1 :  21 ;  Tit.  2  :  14 ;  1  Pet.  1 :  15, 16 ;  Col.  3 :  IQ, 
11;  Phil.  3:9,  10. 

6,  You  also  fetch  your  own  de^ruetion  fi-om  all  tlie 
providences  and  works  of  God.  When  you  think  of 
his  eternal  fore-lmowledge  and  decrees,  it  is  to  harden 
you  in  your  sin,  or  possess  }'our  minds  with  quarrel- 
ling thoughts,  as  if  his  decrees  might  spare  you  the 
labor  of  repentance  and  a  holy  life,  or  else  v,'ere  the 
cause  o[  sin  and  deatli.  If  he  afflict  you.  you  repine; 
it^  he  pi-osper  you,  you  the  more  forget  him,  and  are 
the  more  backward  to  the  thoughts  of  the  life  to  come. 
If  the  wicked  prosper,  you  forget  the  end  that  will  set 
all  reckonings  straight,  and  are  ready  to  think  it  is  as 
good  to  be  wicked  as  godly ;  and  thus  you  draw  your 
death  from  all 

7.  And  the  hke  you  do  from  all  tlie  creatures  and 
mercies  of  God  to  you.  He  givetli  them  to  you  as 
the  tokens  of  his  love  and  furniture  for  his  service, 
and  you  turn  them  against  him,  to  the  pleasing  oC 


142  A    CALL   TO  Doct.  7 

your  flesh.  You  eat  and  drink  to  please  your  appe- 
tite, and  not  for  the  glory  of  God,  and  to  enable  you 
to  perform  his  work.  Your  clothes  you  abuse  to 
pride;  your  richco  draw  your  hearts  from  heaven; 
(Phil.  3  :  18 ;)  your  honors  and  applause  puff  you  up , 
if  you  have  health  and  etrength,  it  makes  you  more 
secure,  and  forget  your  end.  Yea,  other  men's  mercies 
are  abused  by  you  to  your  hurt.  If  you  see  their  ho- 
nors and  dignity,  you  are  provoked  to  envy  them ;  if 
you  see  their  riches,  you  are  ready  to  covet  them ;  if 
you  look  upon  beauty,  you  are  stirred  up  to  lust ;  and 
it  is  well  if  godliness  itself  be  not  an  eye-sore  to  you. 

8.  The  very  gifts  that  God  bestoweth  on  you,  and 
the  ordinances  of  grace  which  he  hath  instituted  for 
his  church,  you  turn  to  sin.  If  you  have  better  parts 
than  others,  you  grow  proud  and  self-conceited ;  if  you 
liave  but  common  gifts,  you  take  them  for  special 
grace.  You  take  the  bare  hearing  of  your  duty  for 
eo  good  a  work,  as  if  it  would  excuse  you  for  not  obey- 
ing it.  Your  prayers  are  turned  into  sin,  because  you 
"  regard  iniquity  in  your  hearts,"  (Psalm  66  :  18,) 
and  depart  not  from  iniquity  when  you  call  on  the 
name  of  the  Lord.  2  Tim.  2  :  19.  Your  "  prayers 
are  abominable,  because  you  turn  away  your  ear 
from  hearing  the  law,"  (Prov.  28  :  9,)  and  are  more 
ready  to  offer  the  sacrifice  of  fools,  thinking  you  do 
God  some  special  service,  than  to  hear  his  word  and 
obey  it.   Eccles.  5:1. 

9.  Yea,  the  persons  that  you  converse  with,  and  all 
their  actions,  you  make  the  occasions  of  your  sin  and 
destruction.  If  they  live  in  the  fear  of  God,  you  hate 
them.  If  they  live  ungodly,  you  imitate  them  ;  if  the 
wicked  are  many,  you  think  you  may  the  more  boldly 
follow  them  j  if  the  godly  be  few,  you  are  the  more 


Doct.  7.  THE    UNCONVERTED.  143 

emboldened  to  daspise  them.  If  they  walk  exactly, 
you  think  they  are  too  precise ;  if  one  of  them  fall  in 
a  particular  temptation  you  stumble  and  turn  away 
from  hohness  because  that  others  are  imperfectly 
holy ;  as  if  you  were  warranted  to  break  your  necks 
because  some  others  have  by  their  heedlessness  strain- 
ed a  sinew,  or  put  out  a  bone.  If  a  hypocrite  discover 
himself,  you  say,  "  They  are  all  alike,"  and  think 
yourselves  as  honest  as  the  best.  A  professor  can 
scarce  slip  into  any  miscarriage,  but  because  he  cuts 
his  finger  you  think  you  may  boldly  cut  your  throats. 
If  ministers  deal  plainly  with  you,  you  say  they  rail. 
If  they  speak  gently  or  coldly,  you  eitlier  sleep  under 
them,  or  are  little  more  affected  than  the  seats  you 
sit  upon.  If  any  errors  creep  into  the  church,  some 
greedily  entertain  them,  and  others  reproach  the 
Christian  doctrine  for  them,  which  is  most  against 
them.  And  if  we  would  draw  you  from  any  ancient 
rooted  error,  which  can  but  plead  two,  or  three,  or  six, 
or  seven  hundred  years'  custom,  you  are  as  much 
offended  with  a  motion  for  reformation  as  if  you  were 
to  lose  your  Ufe  by  it,  and  hold  fast  old  errors,  while 
you  cry  out  against  new  ones.  Scarce  a  difference 
can  arise  among  the  ministers  of  the  Gospel,  but  you 
will  fetch  your  own  death  from  it  5  and  you  will  not 
hear,  or  at  least  not  obey,  the  unquestionable  doctrine 
jf  any  of  those  that  agree  not  with  your  conceits.  One 
will  not  hear  a  minister  because  he  saith  tlie  Lord's 
prayer ;  and  another  will  not  hear  him  because  he 
<loth  not  use  it.  One  will  not  hear  them  that  are  for 
episcopacy ;  and  another  will  not  hear  them  that  are 
against  it.  And  thus  I  might  show  it  you  in  many 
other  cases,  how  you  turn  all  that  comes  near  you  to 
vour  own  destraction  ;  so  clear  is  it  that  the  ungodly 


Mi  A  CALL  TO  Dbct.  7. 

arc  self  destroyers,   and    that    their  perdition  ic  oi' 
themselves. 

Methinks  now^  upon  the  consideration  of  what  ia 
gaid,  and  the  review  of  your  own  ways,  you  should 
bethink  you  what  you  have  done,  and  be  ashamed 
and  deeply  Immbled  to  remember  it.  If  you  be  not,  J 
pray  you  consider  these  following  truths : 

1.  To  be  your  own  destroyers  is  to  sin  against  the 
deepest  principle  in  your  natures,  even  the  principle 
of  self-preservation.  Everything  naturally  desireth 
typ  inelineth  to  its  own  felicity,  welfare,  or  perfection , 
and  will  you  set  yourselves  to  your  own  destruction'/ 
When  you  are  commanded  to  love  your  neighbors  as 
yourselves,  it  is  supposed  that  you  naturally  love  your- 
selves ;  but  if  you  love  your  neighbore  no  better  than 
yourselves,  it  seems  you  would  have  all  the  world  to 
be  damned. 

2.  How  extremely  do  you  cross  your  own  inter>- 
tions  1  I  know  you  intend  not  your  own  damnation, 
even  when  you  are  procuring  it ;  you  think  you  a»rff 
but  doing  good  to  yourselves,  by  gratifying  the  de- 
sires of  your  flesh.  But,  alas,  it  is  but  as  a  draught 
of  cold  water  in  a  burning  fever,  or  as  the  scratching 
of  an  itching  wild-fire,  which  increaseth  the  disease 
and  pain^  If  indeed  you  would  have  pleasure,  profit^ 
or  honor,  seek  them  where  they  are  to  be  fom\d,  and 
do  not  hunt  after  them  in  the  way  to  hell. 

3.  What  pity  is  it  that  you  should  do  that  against 
5^ourselves  which  none  else  on  earth  or  in  hell  can  do  I 
If  aM  the  world  were  combined  against  you,  or  all  the 
devils  in  hell  were  combined  against  you,  they  could 
not  destroy  you  without  yo'jrselvcvs,  nor  make  yr*i  sin 
l)ut  by  your  own  consent :  and  will  you  do  thai  against 
r,  ourscclvc^i  which  no  one  else  can  do?  Youhaai  nate- 


^oct.  7.  THE    UNCONVERTED.  145 

ful  ihoughts  of  the  devil,  because  he  is  your  enemy, 
mm  endeavoreth  your  destruction ;  and  will  you  be 
worse  than  devils  to  yourselves?  Why  thus  it  is  with 
y^u,  if  you  had  hearts  to  understand  it :  when  you 
run  into  sin,  and  run  from  godliness,  and  refuse  to 
turn  at  the  call  of  God,  you  do  more  against  your  own 
souls  than  men  or  devils  could  do  besides ;  and  if  you 
should  set  yourselves  and  bend  your  wits  to  do  your- 
selves the  greatest  mischief,  you  could  not  devise  to 
do  a  greater. 

4.  You  arc  false  to  the  trust  that  God  hath  reposed 
in  you.  He  hath  much  intiTisted  you  with  your  own 
salvation  ;  and  will  you  betray  your  tmst  ?  He  hath 
set  you,  with  all  diligence,  to  keep  your  hearts;  and 
is  this  the  keeping  of  them  ?  Prov.  4  :  23. 

5.  You  do  even  forbid  all  others  to  pity  you,  when 
you  will  have  no  pity  on  yourselves.  If  you  cry  to 
God  in  the  day  of  your  calamity  ibr  mercy,  mercy ; 
what  can  you  expect,  but  that  he  should  thrust  you 
away,  and  say,  '•  Nay,  thou  wouldst  not  have  mercy 
on  thyself;  Avho  brought  this  upon  thee  but  thy  own 
v.'ilful'<ess?''  And  if  your  brethren  see  you  everlast- 
ingly in  misery,  how  shall  they  ])ity  you  that  were 
your  ovm  destroyers,  and  would  not  be  dissuaded  ? 

6.  It  Avill  everlastingly  make  you  your  own  tor- 
mentors in  hell,  to  think  that  you  brought  yourselves 
wilfully  to  that  misery.  O  what  a  piercing  thouglit 
it  will  be  for  ever  to  think  with  yourselves  that  this 
was  your  own  doing  !  that  you  were  v/arned  of  this 
day,  and  warned  again,  but  it  would  not  do ;  that  you 
wilfully  sinned,  and  wilfully  turned  away  from  God  ! 
that  you  had  time  as  v/ell  as  others,  but  you  abused 
U ;  you  had  teachers  as  Avell  as  others,  but  you  re 
fused  tlieir  instruction ;  you  had  holy  examytlos,  but 

13 


146  A    CALL    TO  Doct.  1 

you  did  not  imitate  them  ;  you  were  ofiered  Christ, 
and  grace,  and  glory,  as  well  as  othei-s,  but  you  had 
more  mind  of  your  fleshly  pleasures  !  you  had  a  pricti 
in  your  hands,  but  you  Lad  not  a  heart  to  lay  it  out. 
Prov.  17  :  IG.  Can  it  fail  to  torment  you  to  think  of 
this  your  present  folly  ?  O  that  your  eyes  -.vere  open 
to  see  what  you  have  done  in  the  wilful  wronging  of 
your  own  souls  !  and  that  you  better  understood  these 
words  of  God.  Prov.  8  :  33,  36,  "  Hear  instmction 
and  be  wise,  and  refuse  it  not.  Blessed  is  the  man 
that  heareth  me,  Avatchin^  daily  at  my  gates,  wait- 
ing at  the  posts  of  my  doors :  for  whoso  findeth  me 
findeth  life,  and  shall  obtain  iiivor  of  the  Lord.  But 
he  that  sinneth  against  me,  wrongeth  his  own  soul. 
All  they  that  hate  me  love  decth." 

And  now  I  am  come  to  the  conclusion  of  this  work, 
my  heart  is  troubled  to  think  how  I  shall  leave  you, 
lest  after  this  the  flesh  should  still  deceive  you,  and 
the  world  and  the  devil  should  keep  you  asleep,  and  I 
should  leave  you  as  I  found  you,  till  you  awake  in 
hell.  Though  in  care  of  your  poor  souls,  I  am  afraid 
of  this,  as  knowing  the  obstinacy  of  a  carnal  heart ; 
yet  I  can  say  with  the  prophet  Jeremiah,  (17  :  16,) 


"  fire  might  come  from  heaven"  to  consume  them  that 
refused  Jesus  Christ.  Luke,  9  :  54.  But  it  is  the  pre- 
venting of  the  eternal  fire  that  1  have  been  all  this 
while  endeavoring :  and  O  that  it  had  been  a  need- 
less work!  That  God  and  conscience  might  Jiave 
been  as  willing  to  spare  me  this  labor  as  some  of  you 
could  have  been.  Dear  friends,  I  am  so  lotli  tliat  you 
should  he  in  everlastiiiir  fire,  and  be  shut  out  of  hea* 


Doct.  T.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  147 

ven,  if  it  be  possible  to  prevent  it,  tl.at  I  shall  once 
more  ask  you,  what  do  you  now  resolve  ?  Will  you 
turn,  or  die  ?  I  look  upon  you  as  a  physician  on  his 
patient,  in  a  dangerous  disease,  that  saith  to  him, 
"  Though  you  are  far  gone,  take  but  this  medicine^ 
and  forbear  but  those  li3w  things  that  are  hurtful  to 
you,  and  I  dare  warrant  your  hfe ;  but  if  you  will  not 
do  this  you  are  but  a  dead  man."  What  would  you 
think  of  such  a  man,  if  tlie  physician,  and  all  the 
friends  he  hath,  cannot  persuade  liim  to  take  one  me- 
dicine to  save  his  life,  or  to  forbear  one  or  two  poison- 
ous things  that  would  Idll  him?  This  is  your  case. 
As  far  as  you  are  gone  in  sin,  do  but  now  turn  and 
come  to  Christ,  and  take  his  remedies,  and  yuur  souls 
shall  live.  Cast  up  your  deadly  sins  by  repentance, 
and  return  not  to  the  poisonous  vomit  any  more,  and 
you  shall  do  well.  But  yet,  if  it  were  your  bodies 
that  we  had  to  deal  with,  w^e  might  partly  know 
wliat  to  do  for  you.  Though  you  would  not  consent, 
yet  you  might  be  held  or  bound  while  the  medicine 
were  poureci  uoV/:;^  your  throats,  and  hurtful  things 
might  be  kept  from  you.  But  about  your  souls  it  can- 
not be  so ;  we  cannot  convert  you  against  your  wills. 
There  is  no  carrying  madmen  to  heaven  in  fetters. 
You  may  be  condemned  against  your  wills,  because 
you  sinned  with  your  wills ;  but  you  cannot  be  saved 
against  your  wills.  The  wisdom  of  God  has  thought 
meet  to  lay  men's  salvation  or  destruction  exceed- 
ingly much  upon  the  choice  of  their  own  wall,  that 
no  man  shall  come  to  heaven  that  chose  not  the  way 
to  heaven ;  and  no  man  shall  come  to  hell,  but  shall 
be  forced  to  say,  "  I  have  the  thing  I  chose,  my  own 
wnll  did  bring  me  hither."  Now,  if  I  could  but  get  you 
to  be  willing,  to  be  thoroughly,  and  resolvedl}^,  anJ 


148  A   CALL   TO  ^"ct.  7. 

liabitually  willing,  the  work  Avcre  more  than  half 
(lone.  And  alas !  must  we  lose  our  friends,  and  must 
they  lose  their  God,  their  happine^.s  their  souls,  for 
Avantofthis?  O  God  forbid!  It  is  a  strange  thing 
to  me  that  men  are  so  inhuman  and  stupid  in  the 
greatest  matters,  who  in  lesser  things  are  civil  and 
courteous,  and  good  neighbors.  For  aught  I  know,  I 
liave  the  love  of  all,  or  almost  all  my  neighbors,  so 
far,  that  if  I  should  send  to  any  man  in  the  town,  or 
parish,  or  country,  and  request  c  reasonable  cou^tet^y 
of  them,  they  would  grant  it  me ;  and  yet  when  I 
come  to  request  of  them  the  greatest  matter  in  the 
world,  for  themselves,  and  not  for  me,  I  can  have  no- 
thing of  many  of  them  but  a  patient  hearing.  I  knov,r 
not  whether  people  think  a  man  in  the  pulpit  is  in 
good  earnest  or  not,  and  means  as  he  speaks ;  for  I 
think  I  have  few  neighbors,  but,  if  I  were  sitting  fa- 
miliarly with  them,  and  telling  them  Avhat  I  have 
seen  and  done,  or  knov/n  in  the  world,  they  them- 
selves shall  see  and  know  in  the  world  to  come,  they 
would  believe  me,  and  regard  what  I  say;  but  when 
1  tell  them,  from  the  infallible  word  of  God,  what  they 
themselves  shall  see  and  know  in  the  world  to  come, 
they  show,  by  their  lives,  that  they  do  either  not  be- 
lieve it  or  not  much  regard  it.  If  I  met  any  one  o{ 
them  on  the  way,  and  told  them  yonder  is  a  coal-pit, 
01  there  is  a  quicksand,  or  there  are  thieves  lying  in 
wait  for  you,  I  could  persuade  them  to  turn  by;  but 
when  I  tell  them  that  satan  lieth  in  wait  for  them, 
and  that  sin  is  poison  to  them,  and  that  hell  is  not  a 
matter  to  be  jested  with,  they  go  on  as  if  they  did  not 
iiear  me.  Tmly.  neighbors,  I  am  in  as  good  earnest 
with  you  in  the  pulpit  as  I  am  in  my  familiar  dis- 
course; and  if  ever  you  will  regard  me,  I  beseech 


Doct   7.  THE    UNCOiN  VERTED.  149 

you  let  it  be  here.  I  think  there  is  not  a  man  of  you 
ali,  but,  if  my  own  soul  he  at  your  wills,  you  would 
be  willing  to  save  it,  though  I  cannot  promise  that 
yon  would  leave  your  sins  for  it.  Tell  me,  thou 
drunkard,  art  thou  so  cruel  to  me,  that  thou  wouldst 
not  forbear  a  few  cups  of  drink,  if  thou  knewest  it 
would  save  mj-  soul  Irom  hell  ?  Hadst  thou  rather 
that  I  did  burn  there  for  ever  than  thou  shouldst  live 
soberly  as  other  men  do  ?  If  so,  may  I  not  say,  thou 
art  an  unmerciful  monster,  and  not  a  man '?  If  I  came 
hungry  or  naked  to  one  of  your  doors,  would  you  not 
part  with  more  than  a  cup- of  drink  to  relieve  me?  I 
am  confident  you  would.  If  it  were  to  save  my  hfe, 
I  knmv  you  would,  some  of  you,  hazard  your  own ; 
and  yet  will  you  not  be  entreated  to  part  with  your 
sensual  pleasures  for  your  own  salvation  ^  Wouldst 
thou  forbear  a  hundred  cups  of  drink  to  save  my  life, 
if  it  were  in  thy  power,  and  wilt  thou  not  do  it  to  save 
thy  own  soul  ?  1  profess  to  )-ou,  sirs,  I  am  as  hearty  a 
beggar  with  yoa  this  day  for  the  saving  of  your  own 
souls,  as  I  would  be  for  my  oAvn  supply,  if  I  were 
forced  to  come  begging  to  j-our  doors ;  and  therefore 
if  you  would  hear  me  then,  hear  me  now.  If  you 
would  pity  me  then,  be  entreated  now  to  pity  your- 
selves. I  do  again  beseech  yon,  as  if  it  were  on  my 
bended  knees,  that  you  would  hearken  to  your  Re- 
deemer, and  turn,  that  you  may  live.  All  you  that 
have  lived  in  ignorance,  and  carelessness,  and  pre- 
sumption, to  this  day ;  all  you  that  have  been  drowned 
in  the  cares  of  the  world,  and  have  no  mind  of  God, 
and  eternal  glory ;  all  you  that  are  enslaved  to  your 
fleshly  desires  of  meats  and  drink?,  sports  and  lusts; 
and  all  you  that  know  not  the  necessity  of  holiness, 
and  never  were  acquainted  with  the  sanctifying  work 
13* 


150  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  7. 

of  the  Holy  Ghost  upon  your  fiouls;  that  never  em- 
braced your  blessed  Redeemer  by  a  hvcly  laith,  and 
with  admirincT  and  thanklul  apprehensions  ofhis  love; 
and  that  never  felt  a  higher  estimation  of  God  and 
lioaven,  and  heartier  love  to  them  than  your  flesldy 
prosperity,  and  the  things  below ;  I  earnestly  beseech 
you,  not  only  for  my  sake,  but  for  the  Lord's  sal<e, 
and  for  your  soul's  sake,  that  you  go  not  one  day 
longer  in  your  former  condition,  but  look  about  you, 
{ind  cry  to  God  for  converting  grace,  that  you  nriay 
he  made  new  creatures,  and  may  escape  the  plagues 
that  are  a  little  before  you.  And  if  ever  you  will  do 
any  thing  for  me,  grant  me  this  request,  to  turn  from 
your  evil  ways  and  live.  Deny  me  any  thing  that 
ever  I  shall  ask  you  for  myself,  if  you  will  but  grant 
me  this ;  and  if  you  deny  me  this,  I  care  not  for  any 
tiling  else  that  you  would  grant  me.  Nay,  as  ever 
you  will  do  any  thing  at  the  request  of  the  Lord  that 
made  you,  and  died  that  you  may  live,  deny  him  not 
this ;  for  if  you  deny  him  this,  he  cares  for  nothing 
that  you  shall  grant  him.  As  ever  you  would  have 
him  hear  your  prayers,  and  grant  your  requests,  and 
do  for  you  at  the  hour  of  death  and  day  of  judgment, 
or  in  any  of  your  extremities,  deny  not  his  request 
now  in  the  day  of  your  prosperity.  O  sirs,  believe  it, 
death  and  judgment,  and  heaven  and  hell,  a-e  other 
matters  when  you  come  near  them,  than  they  seem 
to  carnal  eyes  afar  off:  then  you  would  hear  such  a 
message  as  I  bring  you  with  more  awakened  regard- 
ful hearts. 

Weil,  though  I  cannot  hope  so  well  of  all,  I  will 
hope  that  some  of  you  are  by  this  time  purposing  to 
turn  and  live;  and  that  vou  are  ready  to  ask  me,  as 
the  Jews  did  Peter,  (A-?is  *^  •■  37,)  when  they  were 


Doct.  7.  THE    UNCONVERTED,  151 

pricked  in  tlicir  l]earts,aiid  said,  '•  Men  and  brethren, 
what  shall  we  do  ?"  How  may  we  come  to  be  truly- 
converted  ?  We  are  willing,  if  we  did  but  know  our 
duty.  God  forbid  that  we  should  choose  destruction 
by  refusing  conversion,  as  hitherto  we  have  done. 

If  these  be  the  thoughts  and  purposes  of  your 
hearts,  I  say  of  you  as  God  did  of  a  promising  peo- 
ple, (Deut.  5  :  28,  29,)  "  They  have  well  said  all  that 
they  have  spoken :  O  that  there  was  such  a  heart  in 
them,  that  they  would  fear  me,  and  keep  all  my 
commandments  always  !"  Your  purposes  are  good: 
O  that  there  were  but  a  heart  in  you  to  perform  these 
purposes !  And  in  hope  hereof  I  shall  gladly  give  you 
direction  what  to  do,  and  that  but  briefly,  that  you 
may  the  easier  remember  it  for  your  practice. 

Direction  I. — If  you  would  be  converted  and 
saved,  labor  to  understand  the  necessity  and  true  na- 
ture of  conversion  ;  for  what,  and  from  what,  and  to 
what,  and  by  what  it  is  that  you  must  turn. 

Consider  in  what  a  lamentable  condition  you  are 
till  the  hour  of  your  conversion,  that  you  may  see  it 
is  not  a  state  to  be  rested  in.  You  are  under  the  guilt 
of  all  the  sins  that  ever  you  committed,  and  under 
the  wrath  of  God,  and  the  curse  of  his  law  ;  you  are 
bond  slaves  to  the  devil,  and  daily  employed  in  his 
work  against  the  Lord,  yourselves,  and  others;  you 
are  spiritually  dead  and  deformed,  as  being  devoid  of 
the  holy  life,  and  nature,  and  image  of  the  Lord. 
You  are  unfit  for  any  holy  work,  and  do  nothing  that 
is  truly  pleasing  to  God.  You  are  without  any  pro- 
mise or  assurance  of  his  protection,  and  live  in  con- 
tinual danger  of  his  justice,  not  knowing  what  hour 
you  may  be  snatched  away  to  hell,  and  most  certain 


152  A    CALL   TO  Doct.  7. 

to  be  lost  if  you  die  in  tiiat  condition ;  and  nothing 
short  of  conversion  can  prevent  it.  Whatever  civili- 
ties or  amendments  arc  short  of  true  conversion,  will 
never  procure  the  saving  of  your  souls.  Keep  the 
true  sense  of  this  natural  misery,  and  so  cf  the  neces- 
sity of  conversion  on  your  hearts. 

And  then  you  must  understand  what  it  is  u.  be 
converted ;  it  is  to  have  a  new  heart  or  disposition, 
and  a  new  conversation. 

Quest.  1.  For  what  must  we  turn? 

A72SW.  For  these  ends  following,  which  you  may 
attain:  1.  You  shall  immediately  be  made  hving 
members  of  Christ,  and  have  an  interest  in  him,  and 
be  renewed  after  the  image  of  God,  a.nd  be  adorned 
with  all  his  graces,  and  quickened  with  a  new  and 
heavenly  life,  and  saved  from  the  tyranny  of  Satan, 
and  the  dominion  of  sin,  and  be  justified  by  the  curse 
of  the  law,  and  have  the  pardon  of  all  the  sins  ot 
your  whole  lives,  and  be  accepted  of  God,  and  made 
his  sons,  and  have  liberty  with  boldness  to  call  him 
Father,  and  go  to  him  by  prayer  in  all  your  needs, 
with  a  promise  of  acceptance;  you  shall  have  the 
Holy  Ghost  to  dwell  in  you,  to  sanctify  and  guide 
you ;  you  shall  have  part  in  the  brotherhood,  commu- 
nion, and  prayers  of  the  saints ;  you  shall  be  fitted 
for  God's  service,  and  be  freed  from  the  dominion  of 
sin,  and  be  useful,  and  a  blessing  to  the  place  where 
you  live ;  and  shall  have  the  promise  of  this  life,  and 
that  which  is  to  come :  you  shall  want  nothing  that 
is  tmly  good  for  you,  and  your  necessary  afllictioas 
you  will  be  enabled  to  bear ;  you  may  have  some 
taste  of  communion  with  God  in  the  Spirit,  especially 
in  all  holy  ordinances,  where  God  prepareth  a  feast 
for  your  souls ;  you  shall  be  heirs  of  heaven  while 


Doct.  7,  THE    UNCOiWERTED.  153 

you  live  on  earth,  and  may  foresee  by  faith  the  ever- 
lafc:ting  glory,  and  so  may  hve  and  die  in  peace ;  and 
you  shall  never  be  so  low  but  your  happiness  will  be 
incomparably  greater  than  your  misery. 

How  precious  is  every  one  of  these  blessings,  Avhich 
I  do  ])ut  briefly  name,  and  which  in  this  life  you  may 
receive  I 

And  then,  2.  At  death  your  souls  shall  go  to  Christ, 
and  at  the  day  of  judgment  both  soul  and  body  shall 
be  glorified  and  justified,  and  enter  into  your  Master'? 
joy,  where  your  happiness  will  consist  in  these  par- 
ticulars : 

1.  You  shall  be  perfected  j'ourselves ;  your  mortal 
bodies  sliall  be  made  immortal,  and  the  corruptible 
fihall  put  on  mcorruption ;  you  shall  no  more  be  hun- 
gry, or  thirsty,  or  w^eary,  or  sick,  nor  shall  you  need 
lo  fear  either  sham.e,  or  sorrow,  or  death,  or  hell ;  your 
souls  shall  be  perfectly  freed  from  sin,  and  perfectly 
fitted  for  the  knowledge,  and  love,  and  praises  of  the 
Lord. 

2.  Your  emp'Oj^ment  shall  be  to  behold  your  glori- 
fied Redeemer,  with  all  your  holy  fellow  citizens  of 
heaven,  and  to  see  the  glory  of  tlie  most  blessed  God, 
and  to  love  him  perfectly,  and  be  beloved  by  him,  and 
to  praise  him  everlastingl}^ 

3.  Your  glory  will  contribute  to  the  glory  of  the 
New  Jerusalem,  the  city  of  the  living  God,  which  is 
more  tJian  to  have  a  private  felicity  to  yourselves. 

4.  Your  glory  will  contribute  to  the  glorifying  of 
your  Redeemer,  w-ho  will  everlastingly  be  magnified 
and  pleased  in  that  you  are  the  travail  of  his  soul, 
and  this  is  more  than  the  glorifying  of  yourselves. 

5.  And  the  eternal  Majesty,  the  hving  God,  will 
be  glorified  in  your  glory,  both  as  he  is  magnified  by 


154  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  7 

yoar  pral.set:,  and  as  he  conimunicateth  of  liis  glory 
and  goodness  to  you,  and  as  he  is  pleased  in  you,  and 
in  the  accomplishment  of  his  glorious  work,  in  tlie 
glory  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  and  of  his  Son. 

All  this  the  poorest  beggar  of  you  that  is  converted 
shall  certainly  and  endlessly  enjoy. 

II.  You  see  for  what  you  must  turn:  next  you 
must  understandyro7?i  what  you  nmst  turn ;  and  thii 
is,  in  a  word,  from  your  carnal  self,  wdiich  is  the  end 
of  all  the  unconverted : — from  the  flesh  that  would  be 
pleased  before  Grod,  and  would  still  be  enticing  you  ; — ■ 
from  the  w^orld,  that  is  the  bait;  and  from  the  devil, 
that  is  the  angler  for  souls,  and  the  deceiver.  And  so 
from  all  known  and  wilful  sins. 

III.  Next  you  must  know  to  what  end  you  must 
turn ;  and  that  is,  to  Grod  as  your  end ;  to  Christ  as 
the  way  to  the  Father ;  to  holiness  as  the  way  ap- 
pointed you  by  Christ;  and  to  the  use  of  all  the  helps 
and  means  of  grace  atforded  you  by  the  Lord. 

IV.  Lastly;  you  must  know  by  what  you  must 
turn ;  and  that  is  by  Christ,  as  the  only  Redeemer 
and  Intercessor;  and  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  as  the 
Sanctifier;  and  by  the  word,  as  his  instrument  or 
means;  and  by  faith  and  repentance,  as  the  means 
and  duties  on  your  part  to  be  performed.  All  this  is 
of  necessity. 

Direction  II. — If  you  will  be  converted  and  saved, 
be  much  in  serious  secret  consideration.  Incoaside- 
rateness  undoes  the  world.  Withdraw  yourselves  oft 
into  retired  secrecy,  and  there  bethink  you  of  the 
end  why  you  were  made,  of  the  life  you  have  lived, 
of  the  time  you  have  lost,  the  sins  you  have  commit- 
ted ;  of  the  love,  and  sufferings,  and  fulness  of  Christ; 


t)oct.  7.  THE    UMCONVERTED.  155 

or  the  danger  you  are  in ;  of  the  nearness  of  death 
and  judgment ;  oi'  the  certainty  and  excellency  of  the 
joys  of  heaven ;  and  of  the  certainty  and  terror  of  the 
torments  of  hell,  and  the  eternity  of  both ;  and  of  the 
necessity  of  con\^ersion  and  a  holy  life.  Absorb  your 
hearts  in  such  considerations  as  these. 

Direction  IIL — If  you  will  be  converted  and  saved, 
attend  upon  the  word  of  God,  which  is  the  ordinary 
means.  Read  the  Scripture,  or  hear  it  read,  and 
other  holy  writings  that  do  apply  it;  constantly 
attend  on  the  public  preaching  of  the  word.  As  God 
will  light  the  world  by  the  sua,  and  not  by  himselt' 
without  it,  so  will  he  convert  and  save  men  by  his 
ministers,  who  are  the  lights  of  the  world.  Acts. 
26  :  17,  18.  Matt.  5  :  14.  When  he  had  miraculously 
humbled  Paul,  he  sent  Ananias  to  him,  (Acts,  9  :  10,) 
and  when  he  had  sent  an  angel  to  Cornelius,  it  was 
but  to  bid  him  send  for  Peter,  who  must  tell  Inm  what 
to  believe  and  do. 

Direction  IV. — Betake  yourselves  to  God  in  a 
course  of  earnest  constant  prayer.  Confess  and  la- 
ment yourform.er  lives,  eaid  beg  his  grace  to  illuminate 
and  convert  you.  Beseech  him  to  pardon  what  is  past, 
and  to  give  you  his  Spirit,  and  change  your  hearts 
and  lives,  and  lead  you  in  his  ways,  and  save  you 
Irom  temptation.  Pursue  this  work  daily,  and  be  not 
weary  of  it. 

Direction  V. — Presently  give  over  your  Imown 
and  wdful  sins.  Make  a  stand,  and  go  that  way  no 
tart  her.  Be  dmnk  no  more,  but  avoid  the  very  occa- 
sion of  it.     Cast  away  your  lusts  and  sinful  pleasures 


156  A   CALL   TO  Doct.7, 

with  detestation.  Curse,  and  swear,  and  rail  no  more ; 
and  if  you  have  Avrouged  any,  restore,  as  Zaccheus 
did;  if  you  will  commit  again  your  old  sins,  what 
blessing  can  you  expect  on  tlie  means  lor  conversion  ? 

Direction  VI. — Presently,  if  possible,  change  your 
company,  if  it  hath  hitherto  been  bad ;  not  by  for- 
saking your  necessary  relations,  but  your  unneces- 
sary sinful  companions;  and  join  yourselves  will, 
those  that  fear  the  Lord,  and  inquire  of  them  the 
way  to  heaven.     Acts,  9  :  19,  26.     Psalm  15  :  4. 

Direction  VII. — Deliver  up  yourselves  to  the  Lord 
Jesus,  as  the  physician  of  your  souls,  that  he  may 
pardon  you  by  his  blood,  and  sanctify  you  by  his 
Spirit,  by  his  word  and  ministers,  the  instruments  ot 
the  Spirit.  He  is  the  way,  the  tmth,  and  the  life ; 
there  is  no  coming  to  the  Father  but  by  him.  John, 
14  :  6.  Nor  is  there  any  other  name  under  heaven 
by  which  you  can  be  saved.  Acts,  4  :  12.  Study, 
therefore,  his  person  and  natures,  and  what  he  hath 
done  for  you,  and  what  he  is  to  you,  and  what  he 
will  be,  and  how  he  is  fitted  to  the  full  supply  of  all 
your  necessities. 

Direction  VIII. — If  you  mean  indeed  to  turn  and 
live,  do  it  speedily,  without  delay.  If  you  be  not  will- 
ing to  turn  to-day,  you  are  not  willing  to  do  it  at  alL 
Remember,  you  are  all  this  while  in  your  blood,  un- 
der the  guilt  of  many  thousand  sins,  and  under  God's 
wrath,  and  you  stand  at  the  very  brink  of  hell ;  there 
is  but  a  step  between  you  and  death  :  and  this  is  no*. 
a  case  for  a  man  that  is  well  in  his  wits  to  be  quiet  in. 
Up  therefore  presently,  and  fly  as  for  your  lives,  as 


Doct.  7.  THE    UNCONVERTED.  157 

you  would  be  gone  out  of  your  house  if  it  were  all  on 
fire  over  your  head.  O,  if  you  did  but  know  in  what 
continual  danger  you  live,  and  what  daily  unspeak- 
able loss  you  sustain,  and  what  a  safer  and  sweeter 
life  you  might  live,  you  would  not  stand  trifling,  but 
presently  turn.  Multitudes  miscarry  that  wilfully  de- 
lay when  they  are  convinced  that  it  must  be  done. 
Your  lives  are  short  and  uncertain ;  and  what  a  case 
are  you  in  if  you  die  before  you  thoroughly  turn !  Ye 
have  staid  too  long  already,  and  wronged  God  too 
long.  Sin  getteth  strength  while  you  delay.  Your 
conversion  will  grow  more  hard  and  doubtful.  You 
have  much  to  do,  and  therefore  put  not  all  ofTto  the  last, 
lest  God  forsake  you,  and  give  you  up  to  yourselves, 
and  then  you  are  imdone  for  ever. 

Direction  IX. — If  you  will  turn  and  live,  do  it  un- 
reservedly, absolutely,  and  universally.  Think  not 
to  capitulate  with  Christ,  and  divide  your  heart  be- 
tween him  and  the  world ;  and  to  part  with  some  sins 
and  keep  the  rest ;  and  to  let  that  go  which  your  flesh 
can  spare.  This  is  but  self-deluding;  you  must  in 
heart  and  resolution  forsake  all  that  you  have,  or  else 
you  cannot  be  his  disciples.  Luke,  14  :  26,  33.  If  you 
will  not  take  GJod  and  heaven  for  your  portion,  and 
lay  all  below  at  the  feet  of  Christ,  but  you  must  needs 
also  have  your  good  things  here,  and  have  an  earthly 
portion,  and  God  and  glory  are  not  enough  for  you ; 
it  is  vain  to  dream  of  salvation  on  these  terms ;  for  it 
will  not  be.  If  you  seem  never  so  religious,  if  yet  it 
be  but  a  carnal  righteousness,  and  if  the  flesh's  pros- 
perity, or  pleasure,  or  safety,  be  still  excepted  in  your 
devotedness  to  God,  this  is  as  certain  a  way  to  death 
as  open  profaneness,  though  it  be  more  plausible. 
14 


158  A   CALL   TO  Doct.  7. 

Direction  X. — If  you  will  turn  and  live,  do  it  re- 
solvedly, and  stand  not  still  deliberating,  as  if  it  were 
a  doubtful  case.  Stand  not  wavering,  as  if  you  were 
uncertain  whether  God  or  the  flesh  be  the  better  mas- 
ter, or  whether  sin  or  holiness  be  the  better  way,  or 
whether  heaven  or  hell  be  the  better  end.  But  away 
with  your  former  lusts,  and  presently,  habitually, 
fixedly  resolve.  Be  not  one  day  of  one  mind,  and  the 
next  day  of  another ;  but  be  at  a  point  with  all  the 
world,  and  resolvedly  give  up  yourselves  and  all  you 
have  to  God.  Now,  while  you  are  reading,  or  hear- 
ing this,  resolve ;  before  you  sleep  another  night,  re- 
solve ;  before  you  stir  from  the  place,  resolve ;  before 
eatan  have  time  to  take  you  off,  resolve.  You  never 
turn  indeed  till  you  do  resolve,  and  that  with  a  firm 
unchanfireable  resolution. 


And  now  I  have  done  my  part  in  this  work,  that 
you  may  turn  to  the  call  of  God,  and  live.  What  will 
become  of  it  I  cannot  tell.  I  have  cast  the  seed  at 
God's  command ;  but  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  give 
the  increase.  I  can  go  no  further  with  my  message ; 
I  cannot  bring  it  to  your  heart,  nor  make  it  work ;  I 
cannot  do  your  parts  for  you  to  entertain  it  and  con- 
eider  it ;  nor  can  I  do  God's  part,  by  opening  your 
heart  to  entertain  it ;  nor  can  I  show  heaven  or  hell 
to  your  sight,  nor  give  you  new  and  tender  hearts.  If 
I  knew  what  more  to  do  for  your  conversion,  I  hope  I 
should  do  it. 

But  O  thou  that  art  the  gracious  Father  of  spirits, 
thou  hast  sworn  thou  delightest  not  in  the  death  of 
the  wicked,  but  rather  tliat  they  turn  and  live ;  deny 


Doct.  7.  THE   UNCONVERTED.  159 

not  thy  blessing  to  these  persuasions  and  directions, 
and  suffer  not  thine  enemies  to  triumph  in  thy  sight, 
and  the  great  deceiver  of  souls  to  prevail  against  thy 
Son,  thy  Spirit,  and  thy  Word  I  O  pity  poor  uncon- 
verted sinners,  that  have  no  hearts  to  pity  or  help 
themselves !  Command  the  blind  to  see,  and  the 
deaf  to  hear,  and  the  dead  to  live,  and  let  not  sin  and 
death  be  able  to  resist  thee.  Awaken  the  secure,  re- 
solve the  unresolved,  confirm  the  wavering  ;^  and  let 
the  eyes  of  sinners,  that  read  these  lines,  be  next  em- 
ployed in  weeping  over  their  sins,  and  bring  them  to 
themselves,  and  to  thy  Son,  before  their  sins  have 
brought  them  to  peidition.  If  thou  say  but  the  word, 
these  poor  endeavors  shh.l\  prosper  to  the  winning  ot 
many  a  soul  to  their  eve  pasting  joy,  and  thine  ever- 
lasting glory. — Amen. 


THE 


DYING     THOUGHTS 


/ 


REV.    RICHARD    BAXTER. 


ABRIDGED   BV 


BENJAMIN     FAWCETT,    M.   A, 


PUBLISHED   BY   THE 

AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY, 

HO.  ISO  NASSAU  STREET,  NEW-YORK* 


D.  Fanshaw,  Printer. 


PREFACE 


COMPILER   OF   THIS   ABRIDGMENT. 


In  the  following  pages  the  reader  will  find  none 
of  the  triumphs  peculiar  to  martyrdom,  nor  any  of 
those  ecstasies  which  have  distinguished  some  par- 
ticular Christians  on  their  dying  beds.  Some  extra- 
ordinary cases  rather  excite  our  joyful  surprise,  than 
are  patterns  for  our  imitation. 

The  "  Dying  Thoughts  "  of  Mr.  Baxter  chiefly 
present  to  our  view  what  every  Christian  may  attain, 
and  what  it  is  the  highest  interest  as  well  as  the  in- 
dispensable duty  of  every  Christian  to  aspire  after. 
See  here  his  doubts  and  fears  in  the  prospect  of  eter- 
nity; though  he  had  spent  a  long  life  in  exemplary 
holiness,  and  in  great  nearness  to  God  and  heaven. 
See  his  jealousies  over  his  own  heart,  and  anxious 
concern  to  discover  his  sincerity;  together  with  his 
sober  appeals  and  earnest  attention  to  every  dictate 
of  reason  and  Scripture,  in  order  to  establish  his 
mind  and  conscience  in  a  well  grounded  peace.  See, 
also,  his  unwearied  striving  with  God  and  his  OAvn 
soul  to  have  his  grace  in  vigorous  exercise.     All 


IV  PREFACE. 

these  are  well  known  ingredients  of  the  Christian 
temper ;  and  therefore  tend,  not  to  perplex  and  dis- 
courage, but  to  counsel,  strengthen,  and  comfort 
serious  readers,  while  they  discern,  in  one  of  Mr. 
Baxter's  exalted  attainments,  the  same  conflicts, 
complaints,  and  desires,  which  fill  their  own  breasts. 

It  is  observed  of  Lord  William  Russell,  who 
died  a  martyr  for  the  liberty  of  his  country,  that  a 
little  before  his  death,  by  a  trusty  messenger,  he 
sent  Mr.  Baxter  his  hearty  thanks  for  his  Dying 
Thoughts,  "which,"  says  he,  "have  made  me  better 
acquainted  with  the  other  world  than  I  was  before ; 
and  have  not  a  little  contributed  to  my  support  and 
relief,  and  to  the  fitting  me  for  what  I  am  to  go 
through." 

Though  the  Dying  Thoughts  were  written  about 
forty  years  after  the  Saints'  Rest,  yet  both  are  evi- 
dently built  on  the  same  principles,  and  are  animated 
by  the  same  spirit.  And  let  it  sufHce  to  add,  that 
the  abridgment  of  both  is  conducted  in  the  same 
manner. 

B.  Fawcett. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

WHAT   THERE  IS   DESIRABLE   IN'   THE   PRESENT   LIFE    ...      P.  7 

Tlie  vanity  of  i.ian  as  mortal.  The  author's  design  to  speak  only  to  hinj- 
Belf;  with  a  general  plan  of  the  work.  The  apostle's  happiness  whe- 
ther in  living  or  dying-  The  present  life  is  desirahle,  1.  to  please  God  ; 
2.  to  secure  our  own  salvation  ;  3.  to  do  good  to  others.  Minding  the 
life  to  come  is  not  the  whole  of  religion.  The  Old  Testament  sninta 
duly  regarded  tha  present  life.  The  author  is  thankful  for  present 
mercies  to  himself,  his  friends,  and  country ;  especially  for  his  useful- 
ness in  the  church.  He  desires  to  improve  the  remainder  of  life,  and 
rejoices  in  his  happy  situation. 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE  NECESSITY  AND  REASONABLENESS  OF  BELIEVING  THAT  PIOU.? 
SEPARATE   SPIRITS    ARE    WITH    CHRIST 21 

I.  Such  faith  is  necessary,  1.  to  ascertain  the  design  of  life;  2.  to  excitn 
to  holiness;  3.  to  make  us  know,  value,  and  improve  our  mercies;  4. 
and  to  comfort  us  under  sufferings.  II.  Such  faith  is  reasonable,  he- 
ca'ise,  1.  the  soul  is  inriiortal;  2.  this  immortality  is  the  dictate  of  na- 
ture; 3.  every  man  ought  to  seek  happiness;  4.  men  and  brutes  differ 
In  the  knowledge  of  God  imd  futurity;  5  God  is  a  just  governor;  G. 
and  there  is  a  gospel  revelation :  also  because,  7.  of  God's  regard  to 
prayer;  8.  t!ie  mini«;trHtion  of  angels ;  9.  Satan's  temptations ;  10.  and 
especially  tlie  sanctifying  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  The  author 
inculcates  these  considerations  upon  himself,  in  order  to  strengthen  his 
own  failli. 

CHAPTER  III. 

WHAT  IT  IS  TO   DEPART  AND  TO   BR  WITH   CHRIST     .      ...      43 

I.  To  be  with  Christ  includes,  ).  his  presence;  2.  union  to  him;  3.  com- 
munion with  him,  and  with  hi?  glorified  saints.  II.  In  order  to  be  witli 
Christ,  we  must  depart,  I .  fron>  the  body ;  2  from  former  bodily  en- 
joyments ;  and,  3.  from  the  more  rational  pleasures  of  learning,  friend- 
ship, means  of  grace,  and  acquaintance  with  worldly  affairs.  I'he 
1* 


VI  C0NTENT3I. 

author  has  no  fftar  that  the  church  will  want  him.  Desires  chiefly  to 
submit  to  a  separation  from  tlic  body,  und  laments  his  soul's  attach- 
meut  to  llesh  and  sense. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

WHY  IT   IS  FAR  BETTER  TO   BE  WITH   CHRIST G6 

It  is  far  better,  considering,  1.  our  preparation  for  it,  by  the  Father's 
love,  the  Son's  purchase,  and  the  Spirit's  influences ;  by  God's  word, 
ordinances,  and  providences:  and  by  various  other  means.  2.  Ft  is  the 
end  of  ail  our  preparations.  3.  It  perfects  our  knowledge  of  God  and 
hi«  wor'Ks;  of  Clirist,  and  redemption  by  him  ;  of  heaven  and  Scriptuic; 
of  Providence,  of  ourselves,  of  our  fellow-creatures,  and  of  our  enemies, 
sins,  and  dangers.  4.  It  perfects  our  will,  conforming  it  to  the  will  of 
God,  and  fixing  it  in  liis  love.  The  author  triumphs  in  the  prospect  of 
Fuch  hnppincss;  traces  it  from  God's  love  as  the  fountain  ;  through  tiie 
love  of  ('lirist  as  the  ciiannel;  and  through  angels  and  saints  as  suitor- 
dinate  channels.  5.  It  perfects  also  our  activit}'  in  doing  good,  particu. 
larly  in  praising  God  and  Christ,  and  in  bcneficeuce  to  inferior  crca- 
turcf* 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE  AUTHOR  BREATHES  AFTER  WILLINGNESS  TO  DEPART,  AND  TO 
BE  WITH  CHRIST 99 

Lamenting  t'le  incfficacy  of  his  convictions,  he  begs  divine  teaching; 
argues  against  his  doubts  and  fi-ars;  desires  a  heavenly  temper ;  then 
excites  his  faith,  viewing  its  support  from  reason,  from  experionce,  and 
pleading  the  promises.  2.  He  next  excites  his  hope;  views  its  prr-pa- 
ration.*,  anil  pleaJs  it  in  prayer.  3.  He  al.-^o  excites  his  love;  consider? 
its  pxcellt^ncies  ;  prays  for  its  increa-c;  contemplates  the  perfection  o< 
heavenly  love;  is  jealous  of  his  own  love  ;  enumcrutes  tho  evidence!  oi 
God's  lovu,  and  prays  for  its  full  discovery. 


DYING    THOUGHTS. 


PHILIPPIANS,  1  :  23. 

For  I  am  in  a  strait  hetwixt  two,  having  a  desire  io  de* 
part,  and  to  be  vjith  Christ ;  which  is  far  better. 


What  there  is  desirable  in  the  present  life. 

**  Man  that  is  born  of  a  woman  is  of  few  days 
and  full  of  trouble  :  he  cometh  forth  like  a  flovrer, 
and  is  cut  down  :  he  ileeth  also  as  a  shadow,  and 
continueth  not."  "And  dost  thou  open  thine 
eyes  upon  such  an  one,  and  bringest  me  into  judg- 
ment with  thee?"  As  a  watch  when  it  is  wound 
up,  or  as  a  candle  newly  lighted  ;  so  man,  newly 
conceived  or  born,  begins  a  motion  which  inces- 
santly hastes  to  its  appointed  period.  And  as  an 
action,  or  the  tim.e  of  it,  is  nothing  when  it  is  past ; 
so  vain  a  thing  would  man  be,  and  so  vain  is  life, 
were  it  not  for  the  hopes  of  a  more  durable  life 
with  which  this  is  connected.  But  tliose  hopes, 
and  the  means  for  supporting  them,  do  not  only 
distinguish  a  believer  from  an  infidel,  but  a  maji 
from  a  beast.  When  Solomon  describes  the  dif- 
ference only  in  respect  to  time  and  the  things  of 
time,  he  well  observes,  that  one  event  happening 
to  botii,  shows  that  both  are  vanity.  And  Paul 
says  of  Christians,  "  If  in  this  life  only  we  have 


8  WHAT    TUCKE    IS    DESIRABLE  [Chap.  1 

hope,  we  are  of  all  men  most  miserable."  Though 
even  in  this  life^  as  related  to  a  better ^  and  as  we 
ourselves  are  exercised  about  things  of  a  higher 
nature  than  the  concerns  of  a  temporal  life,  we 
are  far  happier  than  the  men  of  the  world. 

I  am  intending  to  speak  to  none  but  myself,  and 
therefore  (supposing  the  meaning  of  the  text  to  be 
duly  ascertained)  shall  only  observe  what  is  use- 
ful tc  my  own  heart  and  practice.  In  this  chapter 
I  will  consider — \Yhat  there  is  desirable  in  the  pre- 
sent life  :  then  show,  chapter  second — The  neces- 
sity and  reasonableness  of  believing  that  pious 
separate  spirits  are  with  Christ :  next  explain, 
chapter  third — What  it  is  to  depart,  and  to  be  with 
(/hrist:  and  chapter  fourth — Why  it  is  far  better 
to  be  with  him.  I  will  conclude  chapter  fifth  with 
expressing — My  concern  that  I  myself  may  be  will- 
ing to  depart,  and  to  be  with  Christ. 

It  was  a  happy  state  into  which  grace  had  brought 
the  apostle,  who  saw  so  much  of  what  was  not  only 
tolei-able,  but  greatly  desirable,  both  in  living  and 
dying.  "  For  him  to  live  was  Christ;"  that  is,  to 
do  the  work  and  serve  the  interest  of  Christ:  for 
him  "  to  die  was  gain  ;"  that  is,  would  he  his  own 
interest  and  reward.  His  strait  was  not,  whether 
it  would  be  good  to  live,  or  good  to  depart,  be- 
cause both  were  good  ;  but  he  doubted  whicfh  of 
the  two  was  more  desirable.     Nor  was  it  his  mean- 

in2'  to  briiiff  his  own  interest  and  Christ's  into  com- 
es o 

petition  with  each  other.  By  Christ,  or  the  inte- 
rest of  Christ,  he  means  his  serving  the  churches 


Chap.  1.]  IN    THE    PRESENT    LIFE.  9 

of  Christ  upon  earth.  But  he  knew  that  Christ 
had  an  interest  also  in  his  saints  above,  and  could 
raise  up  more  to  serve  him  here.  Yet,  because  he 
was  to  judge  by  what  appeared,  and  saw  that  such 
were  much  wanted  upon  earth,  this  turned  the 
scales  in  his  choice  ;  and  therefore,  in  order  to 
serve  Christ  in  the  edification  of  his  churches,  he 
was  more  inclined,  by  denying  himself,  to  have 
his  reward  delayed ;  at  this  same  time  well  know- 
ing that  the  delay  of  his  reward  would  tend  to  its 
increase.  Here  let  me  observe,  "  That  even  in 
this  world,  short  of  death,  there  is  some  good  so 
much  to  be  regarded,  as  may  justly  prevail  with 
believers  to  prefer  it  before  the  present  hasting  of 
their  reward.'*  I  rather  note  this,  that  no  temp- 
tation may  carry  me  into  the  extreme  of  taking 
nothing  but  heaven  to  be  worth  minding;  and  so 
even  sinfully  cast  off  the  world,  on  pretence  of 
mortification  and  a  heavenly  life.  ?!iot  that  any 
thing  on  earth  is  better  than  heaven,  or  is  in  itself 
to  be  preferred  before  heaven.  The  end,  as  such, 
is  better  than  the  means,  and  perfection  better 
than  imperfection.  But  the  present  use  of  the 
means  may  be  sometimes  preferred  before  the 
present  possession  of  the  end.  And  the  use  of  the 
means  for  a  higher  end,  may  be  preferred  before 
the  present  possession  of  a  lower  end.  Every 
thing  has  its  season.  Planting,  sowing,  and  build- 
ing are  not  so  good  as  reaping,  fruit-gathering, 
and  dwelling;  but  in  their  season  they  must  be 
first  done. 


10  WHAT    TIIllIlK    KS    DLslIKAUl.K  [Chap.   I. 

But  let  me  inquire,  What  there  is  so  desirable 
in  this  present  life  ?    The  answer  is  obvious  :  for, 

1.  While  this  present  life  continues,  the  will  of 
God  is  fulfilled,  who  will  have  us  upon  earth  for 
a  season  ;  and  that  is  best  which  God  wills. 

2.  The  life  to  come  depends  upon  this  present 
life;  as  the  life  of  adult  age  depends  upon  infan- 
cy ;  or  the  reward  upon  the  work ;  or  the  prize 
of  racers  or  soldiers  upon  their  running  or  light- 
ing;  or  the  merchant's  gain  upon  his  voyage. 
Heaven  is  won  or  lost  on  earth;  the  possession 
is  there,  but  the  preparation  is  here.  Christ  will 
judge  all  men  in  another  state,  as  their  works 
have  been  in  this.  First,  "  W^ell  done,  good  and 
faithful  servant;"  then,  "Enter  thou  into  the  joy 
of  thy  Lord."  "  I  have  fought  a  good  fight,  I  have 
finished  my  course"  must  go  before  the  crown 
of  righteousness  "  which  the  Lord  the  righteous 
Judge  shall  give."  All  that  we  ever  do  for  salva- 
tion must  be  done  here.  It  was  on  earth  that  Christ 
himself  wrought  the  work  of  our  redemption,  ful- 
filled all  righteousness,  became  our  ransom,  and 
paid  the  price  of  our  salvation  ;  and  here  also  must 
we  do  our  part.  The  bestowing  of  the  reward  is 
God's  work,  who,  we  are  sure,  will  never  fail. 
Here  is  no  room  for  the  least  suspicion  of  his  fail- 
ing in  any  thing  he  undertakes  ;  but  the  danger 
and  fear  is  of  our  own  miscarrying,  lest  we  be  not 
found  capable  of  receiving  wliat  God  will  certain- 
ly give  to  all  that  are  fit  to  receive.  To  distrust 
God  is  heinous  sin  and  follv ;  but  to  distrust  our- 


Ghap.  I.]  IN    THE    PRESENT   LIFE.  11 

selves  is  highly  reasonable.  So  that  if  we  will 
make  sure  of  heaven,  it  must  be  by  "  giving  all 
diligence  to  make  our  calling  and  election  sure" 
upon  earth.  If  we  fear  hell,  we  must  fear  our  be- 
ing prepared  for  it.  And  it  is  great  and  difficult 
work  we  have  to  do  upon  earth  ;  as,  for  instance, 
to  be  cured  of  all  damning  sin;  to  be  born  again; 
to  be  pardoned  and  justified  by  faith  ;  to  be  united 
to  Christ,  made  wise  to  salvation,  renewed  by  his 
Spirit,  and  conformed  to  his  likeness ;  to  over- 
come all  the  temptations  of  the  world,  the  flesh, 
and  the  devil ;  to  perform  all  our  duties  toward 
God  and  man  ;  "  with  the  heart  to  believe  in  Christ 
unto  righteousness,  and  with  the  mouth  to  make 
confession  unto  salvation;  also  to  "suffer  with 
Christ,  that  we  may  reign  with  him  ;  and  be  faith- 
ful to  death,  that  we  may  receive  the  crown  of 
life."  Thus  on  earth  must  we  *'  so  run  that  we 
may  obtain." 

3.  We  must  labor  to  do  good  to  many;  and 
therefore  we  have  greater  M'ork  to  do  on  earth 
than  m.erely  securing  our  own  salvation.  We  are 
intrusted  with  our  Master's  talents  for  his  service, 
to  do  our  best  in  our  places,  to  propagate  his 
truth  and  grace,  to  edify  his  church,  honor  his 
cause,  and  promote  the  salvation  of  as  many  souls 
as  we  can.  All  this  is  to  be  done  on  earth,  if  we 
would  secure  the  end  of  all  in  heaven. 

It  is  then  an  error,  though  but  few  are  guilty 
of  it,  to  think  that  all  religion  lies  in  minding  only 
the  life  to  come,  and  in  disregarding  all  things  in 


12  WHAT  tiu:ri:  is  desirable  [Chap.  I. 

this  present  life.  All  true  Christians  must  seri- 
ously mind  both  the  end  and  the  means  of  attain- 
ing  it.  If  they  believingly  mind  not  the  end,  they 
will  never  be  faithful  in  the  use  of  the  means ;  if 
they  be  not  diligent  iw  using  the  means,  they  will 
never  obtain  the  end.  Heaven  must  have  our 
highest  esteem,  and  our  habitual  love,  desire,  and 
joy ;  but  earth  must  have  more  of  our  daily  thoughts 
for  present  practice.  A  man  that  travels  to  the 
most  desirable  home,  has  an  habitual  desire  to  it 
all  the  way;  but  his  present  business  is  his  jour- 
ney, and  therefore  his  horse,  inns  and  company, 
his  roads  and  his  fatigues,  may  employ  more  of 
his  thoughts,  and  talk,  and  action,  than  his  home. 
I  have  often  wondered  to  find  David,  in  the 
Psalms,  and  other  saints  before  the  coming  of 
Christ,  express  so  great  a  sense  of  the  things  of 
this  present  life,  and  say  so  little  of  another;  ma- 
king so  much  account  of  prosperity,  dominion, 
and  victories  on  the  one  hand,  and  of  persecution 
and  the  success  of  enemies  on  the  other  hand. 
But  I  consider  that  it  was  not  for  mere  personal 
and  carnal  interest,  but  for  the  church  of  God, 
and  for  his  honor,  word,  and  worship ;  for  they 
knew,  if  things  go  well  with  us  on  earth,  they  will 
be  sure  to  go  well  in  heaven  ;  if  the  militant  church 
prosper  in  holiness,  there  is  no  doubt  but  it  will 
triumph  in  glory.  Satan  does  much  of  his  damn- 
ing work  by  men,  as  his  instruments  ;  so  that  if  we 
escape  their  temptations,  we  escape  much  of  our 
danger.     When   idolaters    prospered,  Israel  was 


Chap.  l.J  ty    THE    PRESENT    LIFE.  13 

templed  to  idolatry.  Most  follow  the  powerful 
and  prosperous  side.  And  therefore,  for  the  glory 
of  God,  and  for  our  own  everlasting  salvation,  we 
must,  while  upon  earth,  greatly  regard  our  own, 
and  much  more  the  church's  welfare.  Indeed,  if 
earth  be  desired  only  for  earth,  and  prosperity  be 
loved  only  to  gratify  the  flesh,  it  is  the  certain 
mark  of  damning  carnality  and  an  earthly  mind. 
But  to  desire  peace  and  prosperity  for  the  sake 
of  souls,  the  increase  of  the  church,  and  the  honor 
of  God,  that  "  his  name  may  be  hallowed,  his  king- 
dom come,  and  his  will  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is 
in  heaven,"  accords  with  the  highest  and  most  sa- 
cred discharge  of  duty. 

"  And  now,  O  my  soul !  be  not  unthankful  for 
the  mercies  of  this  present  life.  This  body  is  so 
nearly  united  to  thee,  that  it  must  needs  be  a  great 
help  or  hinderance.  Had  it  been  more  afflicted, 
it  might  have  been  a  discouraging  clog ;  like  a 
tired  horse  in  a  journey,  or  an  ill  tool  to  a  work- 
man, or  an  untuned  instrument  in  music.  A  sick 
or  a  bad  servant  in  a  house  is  a  great  trouble,  and 
much  more  a  bad  wife  :  but  thy  body  is  nearer  to 
thee  than  either  of  these  could  be,  and  will  be 
more  of  thy  concern.  Yet  if  it  had  been  more 
strong  and  healthful,  sense  and  appetite  would 
have  been  strong ;  and  the  stronger  thy  lusts  the 
greater  would  have  been  thy  danger,  and  much 
more  difficult  thy  victory  and  salvation.  Even 
weak  senses  and  temptations  have  too  often  pre- 
vailed How  knowest  thou  then  what  stronger 
D  2 


14  WHAT    THERE    IS    DESIUABLE  [Chap.  I. 

might  liave  done  ?  When  I  see  a  thirsty  man  in  a 
fever,  or  dropsy  ;  and  especially  when  I  see  strong 
and  healthful  youth  bred  up  in  fullness  and  among 
temptations,  how  they  are  mad  in  sin,  violently 
carried  to  it,  bearing  down  the  rebukes  of  God 
and  conscience,  parents  and  friends,  and  all  re- 
gard to  their  own  salvation  ;  this  tells  me  how 
great  a  mercy  I  had,  even  in  a  body  not  liable  to 
their  case.  Also,  many  a  bodily  deliverance  has 
been  of  great  use  to  my  soul,  renewing  my  time, 
and  opportunity,  and  strength  for  service,  and 
bringing  frequent  and  fresh  reports  of  the  love  of 
God.  If  bodily  mercies  were  not  of  great  use  to 
the  soul,  Christ  would  not  so  much  have  showed 
his  saving  love  as  he  did,  by  healing  all  manner 
of  diseases.  Nor  would  God  promise  us  a  resur- 
rection of  the  body,  if  a  suitable  body  did  not  pro- 
mote the  welfare  of  the  soul. 

"  I  am  obliged  to  great  thankfulness  to  God  for 
the  mercies  of  this  life  which  he  hath  showed  to 
my  friends.  That  which  promotes  their  joy  should 
increase  mine.  1  ought  to  '  rejoice  with  them  that 
rejoice.'  Nature  and  grace  teach  us  to  be  glad 
when  our  friends  are  well  and  prosper ;  though  all 
tliis  must  be  in  order  to  better  things  than  bodily 
welfare. 

"  Nor  must  I  undervalue  such  mercies  of  this 
life  as  belong  to  the  land  of  my  nativity.  The 
want  of  them  is  part  of  God's  threatened  curse  ; 
and  '  godliness  has  a  promise  of  the  life  that  now 
is,  and  of  that  which  is  to  come,  and  so  is  profita- 


Chap.   I.j  IK    THE    PRESENT    LIFE.  15 

ble  unto  all  things.'  When  God  sends  on  a  land 
the  plagues  of  pestilence,  war,  persecution,  and 
famine,  especially  a  famine  of  iJie  word  of  God^  it 
is  a  great  sin  to  be  insensible  of  them.  If  any  shall 
say,  '  While  heaven  is  sure,  we  have  no  cause  to 
accuse  God,  or  to  cast  away  comfort,  hope,  or 
duty,'  they  say  well.  But  if  they  say,  '  Because 
heaven  is  all,  we  must  make  light  of  all  that  be- 
falls us  on  earth,'  they  say  amiss.  Pious  and  pub- 
lic-spirited men,  who  promote  the  safety,  peace, 
and  true  prosperity  of  the  commonwealth,  do 
thereby  very  much  befriend  religion  and  men's 
salvation,  and  are  greatly  to  be  loved  and  honored 
by  all.  Let  me  therefore  be  thankful  for  the  pre- 
servation from  enemies,  the  restraint  of  persecu- 
tion, the  concord  of  Christians,  and  increase  of 
godliness,  in  this  land,  and  especially  that  the 
Gospel  is  continued  in  it. 

"  Be  particularly  thankful,  O  my  soul !  that  God 
halh  made  any  use  of  thee  for  the  service  of  his 
church  on  earth.  My  God,  my  soul  for  this  doth 
magnify  thee,  and  my  spirit  rejoiceth  in  the  re- 
view of  thy  great  undeserved  mercy.  O  what  am 
I,  whom  thou  tookest  up  from  the  dunghill,  or 
low  obscurity,  that  I  should  live  myself  in  the 
constant  relish  of  thy  sweet  and  sacred  truth,  and 
with  such  encouraging  success  communicate  it  to 
others  !  that  I  may  say,  now  my  public  work 
seems  ended,  that  these  forty-three  or  forty-four 
years  I  have  no  reason  to  think  that  ever  I  la- 
bored in  vain  !    O  with  what  gratitude  must  I  look 


16  WHAT    THERE    Isi    DESIRABLE  [Chap,   I. 

u[)on  all  places  where  I  lived  and  labored;  but, 
above  all,  that  place  which  had  my  strength  !*  I 
bless  thee  for  the  great  numbers  of  them  gone  to 
heaven,  and  for  the  continuance  of  piety,  humility, 
conconi,  and  peace  among  them.  Also  for  all 
that  by  my  loritings  have  received  any  saving 
light  and  grace.  O  my  God,  let  not  my  own  heart 
be  barren  while  I  labor  in  thy  husbandry  to  bring 
others  unto  holy  fruit !  Let  me  not  be  a  stranger 
to  the  life  and  power  of  that  saving  truth  which 
I  have  done  so  much  to  communicate  to  others ! 
O  let  not  my  own  words  and  writings  condemn 
mc  as  void  of  that  divine  and  heavenly  nature  and 
life  which  I  have  said  so  much  of  to  the  world  ! 

"  Stir  up  then,  O  my  soul,  thy  sincere  desires, 
and  all  thy  faculties,  to  do  the  remnant  of  the  work 
of  Christ  appointed  thee  on  earth,  and  then  joy- 
fully wait  for  the  heavenly  perfection  in  God's 
own  time.  Thou  canst  truly  say,  *  To  me  to  live 
is  Christ.'  It  is  his  work  for  which  ihou  livest. 
Thou  hast  no  other  business  in  the  world.  But 
thou  doest  this  work  with  a  mixture  of  many  over- 
sights and  imperfections,  and  too  much  troublest 
thy  thoughts  with  distrust  about  God's  part,  who 
never  fails.  If  thy  work  be  done,  be  thankful  for 
what  is  past,  and  that  thou  art  come  so  near  the 
port  of  rest.  If  God  will  add  any  more  to  thy  days, 
serve  him  with  double  alacrity.  The  prize  is  al- 
most within  sight.  Time  is  swift  and  short.  Thou 
hast  told  others  that  '  there  is  no  working  in  the 

*  Kidderminster. 


Chap.  I.]  IN    THE    PRESENT    LIFE.  17 

grave,'  and  that  it  must  be  •  now  or  never.'  Dream 
not,  because  Christ's  righteousness  was  perfect, 
that  God  will  save  the  wicked,  or  equally  reward 
the  slothful  and  the  diligent.  As  sin  is  its  own 
punishment,  holiness  is  much  of  its  own  reward. 
Whatever  God  appointed  thee  to  do,  see  that  thou 
do  it  sincerely,  and  with  all  thy  might.  If  sin  dis- 
pose men  to  be  angry  because  it  is  detected,  dis- 
graced, and  resisted  ;  so  that  God  be  pleased,  their 
wrath  should  be  patiently  borne,  who  will  shortly 
be  far  more  angry  with  themselves.  I  shall  not  be 
hurt  when  I  am  with  Christ,  by  the  calumnies  ol 
men  on  earth  ;  but  tlie  saving  benefit  will,  by  con- 
verted sinners,  be  enjoyed  everlastingly.  Words 
and  actions  are  transient  things,  and  being  once 
past,  are  nothing  ;  but  the  effect  of  them  on  an  im- 
mortal soul  may  be  endless.  All  the  sermons  that 
I  have  preached  are  nothing  now;  but  the  grace 
of  God  on  sanctified  souls  is  the  beginning  of  eter- 
nal life.  It  is  an  unspeakable  mercy  to  be  thus 
employed  sincerely  and  with  success  ;  and  there- 
fore I  had  reason  all  this  while  to  be  in  Paul's 
strait,  and  make  no  haste  in  my  '  desires  to  de- 
part.' The  crown  will  come  in  its  due  time;  and 
eternity  is  long  enough  to  enjoy  it,  how  long  so- 
ever it  be  delayed.  But  if  I  will  do  that  which 
must  obtain  it  for  myself  and  others,  it  must  be 
quickly  done,  before  my  declining  sun  be  set.  O 
that  1  had  no  worse  causes  of  my  unwillingness 
yet  to  die,  than  my  desire  to  do  the  work  of  life 
for  my  own  and  other  men's  salvation,  and  to 
D  2* 


18  WHAT  theue  is  desirable  [Chap.  I. 

*  finish  my  course  with  joy,  and  the  niinistry  I 
have  received  of  the  Lord  !' 

"  As  it  is  on  earth  I  must  do  good  to  others,  so 
it  must  be  in  a  manner  suited  to  their  earthly  state. 
Souls  are  here  closely  united  to  bodies,  by  which 
they  must  receive  much  good  or  hurt.  Do  good 
to  men's  bodies,  if  thou  wouldest  do  good  to  their 
souls.  Say  not.  Things  corporeal  are  worthless 
trifles,  for  which  the  receivers  will  be  never  the 
better.  They  are  things  that  nature  is  easily  sen- 
sible of,  and  sense  is  the  passage  to  the  mind  and 
will.  Dost  thou  not  find  what  a  help  it  is  to  thyself, 
to  have  at  any  time  any  ease  and  alacrity  of  body ; 
and  what  a  burden  and  hinderance  pains  and  cares 
are?  Labor  then  to  free  others  from  such  burdens 
and  temptations,  and  be  not  regardless  of  them. 
If  thou  must  '  rejoice  with  them  that  rejoice,  and 
weep  with  them  that  weep,'  promote  then  thy 
own  joy  by  helping  theirs,  and  avoid  thy  own  sor- 
rows ii)  preventing  or  curing  theirs.  But,  alas  ! 
what  power  has  selfishness  in  most !  How  easily 
do  we  bear  our  brethren's  pains  and  reproaches, 
wants  and  afflictions,  in  comparison  of  our  own  ! 
How  few  thoughts  and  how  little  cost  and  labor 
do  we  use  for  their  supply,  in  comparison  of  what 
vv'e  do  for  ourselves  !  Nature  indeed  teaches  us  to 
be  sensible  of  our  own  case ;  but  grace  tells  us 
that  we  should  not  make  so  great  a  difference  as 
we  do,  but  should  love  our  neighbor  as  ourselves. 

"  And  now,  O  my  soul,  consider  how  merciful- 
ly God  has  dealt  with  thee,  that  thy  strait  should 


Chap.  1.]  tN    THE    PRESENT    LIFE.  19 

be  between  two  conditions  so  desirable.  I  shall 
either  die  speedily,  or  stay  yet  longer  upon  earth  ; 
whichever  it  be,  it  will  be  a  merciful  and  com- 
fortable state.  That  it  is  '  desirable  to  depart,  and 
be  with  Christ,'  I  must  not  doubt,  and  shall  here- 
after more  copiously  consider.  And  if  my  abode 
on  earth  yet  longer  be  so  great  a  mercy  as  to  be 
put  into  the  balance  against  my  present  posses- 
sion of  heaven,  surely  it  must  be  a  state  which 
obliges  me  to  great  thankfulness  to  God  and  com- 
fortable acknowledgment :  nor  should  my  pain,  or 
sickness,  or  sufferings  from  men,  make  this  life  on 
earth  unacceptable  while  God  will  continue  me  in 
it.  Paul  had  his  thorn  in  the  flesh,  the  messenger 
of  Satan  to  buflfet  him,  and  sufliered  more  from 
men  than  I  have  done ;  and  yet  he  '  gloried  in  his 
infirmities,  and  rejoiced  in  his  tribulations,'  and 
was  *  in  a  strait  betwixt'  living  and  dying ;  yea, 
rather  chose  to  live  yet  longer.  Alas  !  the  strait 
of  most  men  is  between  the  desire  of  life  for  flesh- 
ly interest,  and  the  fear  of  death  as  ending  their 
felicity ;  between  a  tiring  world  and  body,  which 
make  them  weary  of  living,  and  the  dreadful  pros- 
pect of  future  danger,  which  makes  them  afraid  of 
dying.  If  they  live,  it  is  in  misery;  if  they  must 
die,  they  fear  greater  misery :  whether  they  look 
behind  or  before  them,  to  this  world  or  the  next, 
fear  and  trouble  is  their  lot.  Yea,  many  serious 
Christians,  through  the  weakness  of  their  trust  in 
God,  live  in  this  perplexed  strait,  weary  of  living 
and  afraid  of  dying,  continually  pressed  between 


20         WHAT  THERE  IS  DESIRABLE,  Ac    [Chap.  L 

grief  and  fear.  But  Paul's  strait  was  between  two 
joysi  which  of  ihem  he  should  desire  most.  And 
if  that  be  my  case,  what  should  much  interrupt 
my  peace  or  pleasure  ?  If  I  live^  it  is  for  Christy 
for  his  service,  and  to  prepare  for  my  own  and  his 
everlasting  felicity  ;  and  should  any  suffering  make 
me  impatient  with  such  a  work,  and  such  a  life? 
If  I  die  presently,  it  is  my  gain;  God,  who  ap- 
points me  my  work,  limits  my  time ;  and  surely 
his  glorious  reward  can  never  be  unseasonable,  or 
come  too  soon,  if  it  be  the  time  that  he  appoints. 
When  I  first  engaged  myself  to  preach  the  Gospel, 
I  reckoned,  as  probable,  but  upon  one  or  two 
years,  and  God  has  made  it  above  forty-four.  And 
what  reason  have  I  to  be  unwilling  now,  either  to 
live  or  die?  God's  service  has  been  so  sweet  to 
me  that  it  has  overcome  the  trouble  of  constant 
pains  or  weakness  of  the  flesh,  and  all  that  men 
have  said  and  done  against  me.  How  much  the 
following  exceeds  this  pleasure,  I  am  not  now  able 
to  conceive.  There  is  some  trouble  in  all  this  plea- 
sant work,  from  which  the  soul  and  flesh  would 
rest.  And  '  blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the 
Lord  ;  yea,  saith  the  Spirit,  that  they  may  rest 
from  their  labors,  and  their  works  do  follow  them.' 
O  my  soul,  what  need  has  this  kind  of  strait  to 
trouble  thee?  Leave  God  to  his  own  work,  and 
mind  that  which  is  thine.  So  live  that  thou  mav- 
cst  say,  'Christ  livelh  in  me;  and  the  life  which  I 
now  live  in  the  flesh,  I  live  by  the  faith  of  the 
Son  of  God,  who  loved  me,  and  gave  himself  for 


Chap.  II.]  flQVS    SEPARATE    SPIRITS.  2J 

me.'  Then,  as  thou  hast  lived  in  the  comfort  of 
hope,  thou  shalt  die  in  the  comfort  of  vision  and 
enjoyment.  And  when  thou  canst  say  of  God, 
*  Whose  I  am,  and  whom  I  serve  ;'  that  thou  may- 
est  boldly  add,  '  I  know  whom  I  have  believed, 
and  into  his  hands  I  commit  my  departing  spirit.'  " 


OKAFT£R    XI. 


The  necessity  and  reasonableness  of  believing  that  pi- 
ous separate  spirits  are  with  Christ. 

The  subject  suggests  to  my  thoughts — the  ne- 
cessity of  believing  that  the  souls  of  the  godly, 
when  departed  hence^  shall  be  with  Christ — and, 
the  reasonableness  of  such  a  faith.  We  are  else- 
where assured,  that  "  we  shall  be  with  him,  where 
he  is;"  and  to  be  with  him  can  mean  no  less  than 
a  state  of  communion,  and  a  participation  of  hap- 
piness. To  believe  such  a  state  of  happiness  for 
departed  pious  souls,  must  appear,  upon  conside- 
ration, to  be  both  necessary  and  reasonable. 

I.  The  NECESSITY  of  believing  that  pious  sepa- 
rate spirits  are  with  Christ,  appears  by  consider- 
ing, that,  without  this  belief — we  shall  be  uncer- 
tain concerning  the  design  of  life — we  shall  lose 
the  most  powerful  motives  to  a  holy  life — we  can 
neither  know,  estimate,  nor  improve  our  mercies — 
nor  can  we  bear  our  sufferings  with  comfort. 


22  P10U3    SEPAltATE    SPIRITS  [Chop.  11 

1.  We  sliall  be  uncertain  concerning  the  design 
of  life.  It  is  allowed,  that  the  right  end  of  life  is 
to  please  God.  But  I  must  desire  to  please  God 
better  than  I  do  in  this  imperfect  state,  I  must  de- 
sire to  please  him  perfectly.  And  our  desires  of 
our  ultimate  end  must  have  no  bounds.  God  has 
made  the  desire  of  our  own  happiness  so  necessa- 
ry to  the  soul  of  man,  that  it  cannot  be  separated 
from  our  desire  to  please  him.  Therefore,  both 
in  respect  to  God  and  to  our  own  happiness,  we 
must  believe  that  he  is  the  everlasting  "  rewarder 
of  them  that  diligently  seek  him."  If  we  knew 
not  whether  God  will  turn  our  pleasing  him  to  our 
loss,  or  to  our  having  no  gain  by  pleasing  him, 
this  would  hinder  our  love  to  him,  and  our  trust 
and  joy  in  him  ;  and  consequently  hinder  the  cheer- 
fulness, sincerity,  and  constancy  of  our  obedience. 
Had  we  no  certainty  M'hat  God  will  do  with  us 
we  must  have  some  prohahility  and  hope  before 
we  can  be  entirely  devoted  to  his  service.  How 
can  a  man  pitch  upon  an  uncertain  end?  If  he 
waver  so  as  to  have  no  end,  he  can  use  no  means  ; 
he  lives  not  as  a  man,  but  as  a  brute.  Or  if  he 
pitch  upon  a  wrong  end,  he  will  but  make  work 
for  repentance. 

2.  We  shall  lose  the  most  powerful  motives  to 
a  holy  life.  Indeed,  goodness  is  desirable  for  itself; 
but  the  goodness  of  means  is  their  fitness  for  the 
end.  We  have  here  abundance  of  hindorances» 
temptations,  and  difficulties,  which  must  be  over- 
come.   Our  natures  are  diseased,  and  greatly  in- 


Chap,  ll.j  ARE    WITH    CHRIST.  23 

disposed  to  the  most  necessary  duties ;  and  will 
they  ever  be  discharged,  if  the  necessary  motives 
be  not  believed  ?  Our  duties  to  God  and  man  may 
cost  us  our  estates,  liberties,  and  lives.  The  world 
is  not  so  happy  as  commonly  to  know  good  men 
from  bad,  or  to  encourage  piety  and  virtue,  or  to 
forbear  opposing  them.  And  who  will  let  go  his 
present  welfare  without  some  hope  of  better  as  a 
reward  ?  Men  do  not  use  to  "  serve  God  for 
naught,'^  or  while  they  think  it  will  be  their  loss 
to  serve  him.  A  life  of  sin  will  not  be  avoided 
for  inferior  motives.  When  lust  and  appetite  in- 
cline men  strongly  and  constantly  to  their  respec- 
tive objects,  what  shall  sufficiently  restrain  them, 
except  the  motives  from  things  external  ?  If  sin 
so  overspread  the  earth,  notwithstanding  all  the 
hopes  and  fears  of  a  life  to  come,  what  would  it 
do  if  there  were  no  such  hopes  and  fears  ? 

3.  We  can  neither  know,  estimate,  nor  improve 
our  mercies, — God  gives  us  all  the  mercies  of  this 
life  as  helps  to  an  immortal  state  of  glory,  and  as 
earnests  of  it.  Sensualists  know  not  what  a  soul 
is,  nor  what  soul-mercies  are,  and  therefore  know 
not  the  just  value  of  all  bodily  mercies  ;  but  take 
up  only  with  the  carcass^  shell,  or  shadow,  instead 
of  the  life  of  their  mercies.  No  wonder  they  are 
so  unthankful  for  God's  mercies,  when  they  know 
not  the  real  excellency  of  them. 

4.  Nor  can  we  bear  our  present  sufferings  with 
comfort,  without  the  hope  of  living  with  .Christ.— 
What  should  support  and  comfort  me  under  my 


24  FIOUS    SEPARATE    SPIRITS  [Chap.  II 

bodily  languishings  and  pains,  my  weary  hours, 
and  daily  experience  of  the  vanity  and  vexation 
of  all  things  under  the  sun,  had  I  not  a  prospect 
of  the  comfortable  end  of  alH  I,  that  have  lived 
in  the  midst  of  great  and  precious  mercies,  have 
all  my  life  had  something  to  do  to  overcome  the 
temptation  of  wisliing  that  I  had  never  been  born; 
and  had  never  overcome  it,  but  by  {he  belief  of  a 
blessed  life  hereafter.  We  should  be  strongly 
tempted,  in  our  considerate  moments,  to  murmur 
at  our  Creator,  as  dealing  worse  by  us  than  by 
the  brutes ;  if  we  must  have  had  all  those  cares, 
and  griefs,  and  fears,  by  the  knowledge  of  what 
we  want,  and  the  prospect  of  death  and  future 
evils,  which  they  are  exempted  from,  and  had  not 
withal  the  hope  of  future  felicity  to  support  us. 
Seneca  had  no  better  argument  to  silence  such 
murmurers,  than  to  tell  them,  "  If  this  life  have 
more  evil  than  good,  and  you  think  God  does  you 
wrong,  you  may  remedy  yourselves  by  ending  it 
when  you  will."  But  that  could  not  cure  the  re- 
pinings  of  nature,  when  weary  of  the  miseries  of 
life,  and  yet  afraid  of  dying.  No  wonder  that  so 
many  fancied  that  souls  were  punished  in  these 
bodies  for  something  done  in  a  pre-existent  state. 
*'  O  how  contemptible  a  thing  is  man,"  says  Sen- 
eca, "  unless  be  lifts  up  himself  above  human 
things."  Therefore,  says  Solomon,  when  he  had 
tried  all  sensual  enjoyments,  "  I  hated  life,  be- 
cause the  work  that  is  wrought  under  the  sun  is 
grievous  unto  me;  for  all  is  vanity  and  vexation 
of  spirit.'' 


Chap,  il.'}  ARE    WITH    CHRIST.  25 

II.    As  for  the  reasonableness  of  believing 
that  pious  separate  spirits  are  with  Christ — I  have 
often  thought,  whether  an  implicit  belief  of  it  may 
not  be  better  than  searching  into  its  nature,  and 
trying  what  can  be  said  against  it.     I  have  known 
many  godly  women  who  never  disputed  the  mat- 
ter, but  served  God  comfortably  to  a  very  old  age, 
and  who  lived  many  years  in  such  a  cheerful  rea- 
diness and  desire  for  death  as  few  studious  men 
ever  attain  to.     This  no  doubt  was  the  divine  re- 
ward of  their  unwavering  confidence  and  trust  in 
the  promises  through  Christ.     On  the  contrary, 
as  doubts  and  difficulties  are  apt  to  present  them- 
selves to  an  inquisitive  mind,  they  must  be  an- 
swered ;  for  if  we  reject   them  unanswered,   we 
give  them  half  the  victory  over  us ;  and  a  faith 
that  is  not  upheld  by  such  evidence  of  truth  as 
reason  can  discern  and  justify,  is  often  joined  -with 
much  doubting,  which  men  dare  not  confess,  but 
do  not  therefore  overcome ;  and  the  weakness  of 
such  a  faith  may  tend  to  enfeeble  all  the  graces 
and  duties  which  should  be  strengthened  by  it. 
Who  knows  how  soon  a  temptation  from  Satan, 
or  infidels,  or  from  our  own  dark  hearts,  may  as- 
sault us,  which  will  not  be  overcome  without  clear 
evidence?     Yet  many  that  try,  and  reason,  and 
dispute  most,  have  not  the  stronger  faith.     Indeed, 
there  is  a  wide  difference  between  that  light  which 
discovers  the  thing  itself,   and  a   mere  artificial 
kind  of  knov/ledge,  to  form  arguments  and  answer 
objections.     Unlearned  persons,  who  have  little 
D  3 


26  PIOUS  SEI'ARATE   SPIRITS  [Chap.  TI. 

of  the  latter  may  have  more  of  the  former,  even 
that  teaching  from  God  which  reaches  the  heart 
as  well  as  the  understanding.  And  who  does  not 
find  it  necessary  to  pray  hard  for  this  divine 
teaching?  When  I  can  prove  the  truth  of  the 
word  of  God,  and  of  the  life  to  come,  with  the 
most  convincing  evidence  of  reason,  I  feel  my 
need  to  cry  daily  to  God  to  "  increase  my  faith," 
and  to  give  me  that  light  which  may  sanctify  the 
soul  and  reach  the  end.  Nevertheless,  this  effec- 
tual teaching  ordinarily  supposes  that  which  is  ar- 
tificial. Unlearned  Christians  are  convinced,  by 
good  evidence,  that  God's  word  is  true,  and  his 
rewards  sure ;  though  they  cannot  state  that  evi- 
dence, or  conceive  of  it  without  some  confusion. 
With  respect  to  curious  and  needless  inquiries 
beyond  what  is  levealed,  it  is  a  believer's  wisdom 
implicitly  to  trust  his  soul  to  Christ,  and  to  f^ar 
that  vain,  vexatious  knowledge,  which  is  selfish, 
and  savors  of  a  distrust  of  God,  and  is  that  sin, 
and  fruit  of  sin,  which  the  learned  world  too  lit- 
tle fears.  That  "  God  is  the  rewarder  of  them 
that  diligently  seek  him,"  and  that  holy  souls 
shall  be  in  blessedness  with  Christ,  I  am  con- 
vinced by  the  following  concurrent  evidences,  on 
which  my  soul  raises  its  hopes: — The  immortal- 
ity of  the  soul — the  belief  of  it  naturally  implant- 
ed in  all  men — the  duty  of  all  men  to  seek  after 
future  happiness — the  difference  between  men  and 
brutes,  concerning  the  knowledge  of  God  and  fu- 
turity— the  justice  of  God,  as  the  governor  of  the 


Chap.  II,J  ARE    WITH    CHRIST.  27 

world — divine  revelation — God's  hearing  and  an 
swering  prayer — the  ministration  of  angels — the 
temptations  of  Satan,  and  especially  the  sancti- 
fying operations  of  the  Spirit  of  God. 

1.  The  soul  of  man  is  immortal — and  there- 
fore, if  good,  cannot  be  for  ever  in  a  bad  condi- 
tion. An  immortal  spirit  is  "  a  distinct,  self- 
conscieus,  invisible  being,  endowed  with  natural 
powers  of  never-ceasing  action,  understanding 
and  will,  and  which  is  neither  annihilated  nor  de- 
stroyed by  separation  of  parts."  Such  is  the  soul 
of  man.  If  in  this  flesh  our  spirits  were  not  in- 
active and  useless,  we  have  no  reason  to  think 
that  they  will  be  so  hereafter,  and  that  for  ever. 
Though  by  the  light  of  nature  we  may  know  the 
immortality  of  souls,  yet  without  supernatural 
light  we  know  not  what  manner  of  action  they 
will  have  in  their  separate  state.  It  satisfies  me, 
that  God  will  not  continue  their  noblest  powers 
in  vain ;  and  how  those  powers  shall  be  exercised 
is  known  to  him;  and  this  his  word  tells  us  more 
than  nature.  All  things  considered,  there  is  no 
reason  to  fear  that  souls  shall  lose  their  activity, 
though  they  change  their  manner  of  action  :  and 
so  it  is  naturally  certain  that  they  are  immortal. 
And  if  holy  souls  are  so  far  immortal,  their  holi- 
ness must  prove  their  happy  immortality.  This 
the  most  just  and  holy  God  will  certainly  secure 
to  those  whom  he  makes  holy. 

2.  The  belief  of  the  soul's  immortality  is  na- 
turally implanted  in  all  men. — Almost  all  pagan 


23  PIOUS   SEPARATE    SPIRITS  [Cbap.  II. 

nations  at  tliis  day,  as  well  as  ibe  Maliommedans, 
believe  it.  As  for  tlie  cannibals  and  savages, 
whose  understandings  are  least  improved,  they  are 
rather  ignorant  of  it  than  disbelieve  it.  Though 
some  philosophers  denied  it,  they  were  every  way 
inconsiderable:  though  many  others  were  doubt- 
ful, it  was  only  a  certainty  which  they  professed 
to  want,  and  not  a  probability.  Most  of  the  apos- 
tates from  Christianity,  beside  those  philoso- 
I)hers  who  have  been  its  violent  opposers,  fully 
acknowledged  it.  Julian  was  so  persuaded  of  it, 
that  with  a  view  to  it  he  exhorted  his  priests  and 
the  rest  of  his  subjects  to  great  strictness  of  life, 
and  to  see  that  the  Christians  did  not  exceed  them. 
Indeed,  few  of  those  that  affect,  like  the  Sad- 
ducees,  to  disbelieve  it,  are  able  to  free  them- 
selves from  the  tears  of  future  misery  ;  but,  with 
all  their  efforts,  conscience  still  troubles  them. 
And  whence  should  all  this  be  in  man,  and  not  in 
beasts,  if  man  had  no  more  cause  for  hopes  and 
fears  ib.an  they? 

3.  God  has  made  it  every  man's  duty  to  seek 
nflrr future  happiness  as  the  one  thing  needful, 
and  therefore  there  must  certainly  be  such  a 
happiness  for  them  that  truly  seek  it.  Some  be 
lieve  a  state  of  future  retribution,  as  Christians 
Mahommedans,  and  most  heathens.  Others  think 
it  is  uncertain,  yet  very  probable.  And  to  others 
it  is  also  uncertain,  though  they  rather  think  it 
untrue.  Now  all  tliese  ought  to  seek  after  it,  and 
make  it  their  chief  care  and  labor:  for  natural  rea- 


Chap.  U.J  ARE    WITH   CHRIST.  29 

son  requires  every  man  to  seek  that  which  is  best 
Math  the  greatest  diligence,  and  assures  us  that  a 
probability  or  possibility  of  future  everlasting 
liappiness  is  better,  and  more  worthy  to  be  sought, 
than  any  thing  attainable  in  this  present  life.  As 
the  will  of  man  necessarily  desires  happiness,  it 
must  desire  that  most  which  is  best,  and  which  is 
known  to  be  so.  In  this  life  there  is  nothing  cer- 
tain for  an  hour.  It  is  certain  that  the  longest 
life  is  short.  It  is  certain  that  time  and  sensual 
pleasure,  when  past,  are  nothing,  and  no  better 
than  if  they  had  never  been.  It  is  .also  certain 
that  they  are  dissatisfying  while  we  possess  them ; 
for  carnal  pleasure  is  no  sweeter  to  a  man  than 
to  a  beast,  and  to  a  beast  is  unattended  with  fear 
of  death,  or  any  misery  after  death;  nor  has  the 
beast  any  labors,  sufferings,  or  trials,  in  order  to 
obtain  a  future  happiness,  or  avoid  a  future  mis- 
cry.  Beside,  it  is  self-evident,  from  the  perfec- 
tions of  God,  and  from  the  nature  of  his  works 
that  he  does  not  make  it  man's  natural  duty  to 
care  and  labor  most  for  that  which  is  not,  or  to 
seek  what  is  not  to  be  attained.  If  so,  the  duty 
of  man  would  result  from  deceit  and  falsehood; 
and  God  would  govern  the  world  by  a  lie,  and 
not  by  power,  wisdom,  and  love ;  and  the  better 
any  man  was,  and  the  more  he  did  his  duty,  he 
would  be  only  the  more  deluded  and  miserable; 
and  the  more  wicked  and  unbelieving  any  man 
was,  the  wiser  and  happier  would  he  be.  But  all 
this  is  contrary  tc  the  perfections  and  works  of 


so  PIOUS   SEPARATE    SPIRITS  [Cbap.   II. 

Got! ;  for  he  makes  nothing  in  vain,  nor  can  lie 
lie:  much  less  will  he  make  holiness  itself,  and 
all  llial  duly  and  work  of  life  which  reason  obli- 
ges all  men  to  perform,  to  be  not  only  vain,  but 
pernicious. 

4.  The  diflerence  between  men  and  brutes  with 
respect  to  the  knowledge  of  God  and  futurity, 
shows  that  tiiey  difler  as  much  in  their  hopes. 
>Ian  knows  that  there  is  a  God  by  his  works  ;  and 
that  this  God  is  our  Lord,  our  ruler,  and  end; 
and  thai  we  naturally  owe  him  all  our  love  and 
obedience:  and  that  it  is  not  the  manner,  even  of 
good  men,  ever  to  suffer  their  most  faithful  ser- 
vants to  be  losers  by  their  tidelily,  or  to  set  tliem 
upon  laboring  in  vain.  ]Man  also  knows  that  his 
own  soul  is  immortal,  and  therefore  must  be  well 
or  ill  for  ever,  and  that  this  ouj^ht  to  be  cared  for. 
And  why  should  God  give  man  all  this  knowledge 
more  than  the  brutes,  if  man  is  designed  for  no 
more  happiness  than  brutes?  Every  wise  man 
makes  his  work  fit  for  its  design;  and  will  not 
God  do  so?  If  God  was  not  perfectly  wise,  he 
would  not  be  God.  Therefore  to  deny  man's  fu 
ture  hopes,  is  to  deny  Goil  himself. 

5.  The  justice  of  Ciod  as  the  governor  of  the 
world,  infers  a  stale  of  future  retribution.  If 
God  did  not  govern  man  by  laws,  judgment,  and 
executions,  there  would  be  no  proper  law  of  na- 
ture, and  man  would  have  no  proper  duly,  nor 
be  in  sin  or  fault.  But  experience  tells  us  that 
God  morally  governs  the  world;  and  his  right  to 


Chap.  [I.]  ARE    WITH    CHRIST.  31 

do  SO  is  unquestionable.  If  God  was  not  the  ru- 
ler of  tlie  world,  the  world  would  have  no  univer- 
sal laws;  for  no  man  is  the  universal  ruler;  nor 
are  kings,  and  other  supreme  powers,  utterly  law- 
less and  ungoverned.  And  if  God  be  a  ruler,  he 
is  just ;  else  he  is  not  so  good  as  he  requires  earth- 
ly princes  to  be.  But  how  is  God  a  righteous  ru- 
ler, if  he  draws  ail  men  to  him  by  deceit?  if  he 
obliges  them  to  seek  and  expect  a  reward  which 
he  will  never  give?  if  he  makes  man's  duty  his 
misery?  if  he  requires  man  to  labor  in  vain?  if  he 
suffer  the  wicked  to  persecute  and  kill  his  ser- 
vants, without  punishing  the  one  and  gloriously 
recompensing  the  other,  in  a  future  stale? 

6.  The  gospel  revelation  is  the  clear  founda- 
tion of  our  faith  and  hope.  God  iias  not  left  us 
to  tiie  mere  light  of  nature.  "  Christ  has  brought 
life  and  immortality  to  light."  One  greater 
than  an  angel  was  sent  from  heaven  to  tell  us  what 
is  there,  and  which  is  the  way,  and  to  secure  our 
hopes.  He  has  conquered  death,  and  entered  be- 
fore us,  as  our  captain  and  forerunner,  into  the 
everlasting  habitations.  He  has  "all  power  in 
heaven  and  earth,  and  all  judgment  is  commit- 
ted to  him."  Ail  his  word  is  ftll  of  promises  of 
our  future  glory  at  the  resurrection.  jNor  arc  we 
without  assurance  that  the  departing  soul  at  death 
enters  upon  a  state  of  joy  and  blessedness,  as  ap- 
])pars  by  the  promise  to  the  penitent  thief  on  the 
cross  ; — the  parable  of  the  rich  man  and  Lazarus  ; 
— Christ's  telling  the  sadducees  that  God  ;  "  is  not 


32  nous   SEI'AKATE   ai'IRITd  [Chap.  II. 

the  God  of  the  dead,  but  of  the  living;" — the 
translation  of  Enoch  and  Elijah,  and  the  appear- 
ance of  Moses  with  Elijali  on  the  mount  of  trans- 
figuration; our  Lord's  arguing,  that  "they  who 
kill  the  body  are  not  able  to  kill  the  soul;" — 
his  "commending  his  spirit  into  his  Father's 
hands,"  and  its  being  in  paradise,  while  his  body 
was  in  the  grave  ; — his  promising,  "  Where  I  am, 
there  shall  also  my  servant  be,"  &c. — Stephen's 
seeing  heaven  opened,  and  his  praying,  "Lord 
Jesus  receive  my  spirit ;" — our  being  "  come  to 
the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect;" — Paul's  de- 
siring to  depart,  and  to  be  with  Christ,  which  is 
far  better,  and  to  be  absent  from  the  body,  and 
present  with  the  Lord; — the  blessedness  of  the 
dead  who  die  in  the  Lord; — the  disobedient  spi- 
rits being  in  prison,  and  the  cities  of  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah  suffering  the  vengeance  of  eternal  fire; 
— also  Christ's  saying,  "When  ye  fail,  (that  is, 
leave  this  world,)  ye  shall  be  received  into  ever 
lasting  habitations." 

7.  God's  hearing  and  answering  prayer  in  this 
life,  assures  his  servants  that  he  is  their  true  and 
faithful  Savior.  How  often  have  I  cried  to  him 
when  theie  appeared  to  be  no  help  in  second 
causes;  and  how  frequently,  suddenly,  and  mer- 
cifully, has  he  deliverc<l  me  !  Such  extraordinary 
changes,  beyond  my  own  and  others'  expectations, 
while  many  plain-hearted,  upright  Christians,  by 
fasting  and  prayer,  sought  God  on  my  behalf, 
have  abundantly  convinced  me  of  a  special  provi- 


Chap.  II.]  ARE    WITH    CHRIST.  33 

dence,  and  that  God  is  indeed  a  hearer  of  prayer. 
I  have  also  seen  wonders  done  for  others  by  prayer 
more  than  for  myself:  though  I  and  others  are  too 
much  like  those  who  "  cried  unto  the  Lord  in 
their  trouble,  and  he  saved  them  out  of  their  dis- 
tresses ;  but  they  forgot  his  works,  and  his  won- 
ders that  he  showed  them."  And  what  were  all 
those  merciful  answers,  but  the  fruits  of  Christ's 
power,  faithfulness,  and  love,  the  fulfilling  of  his 
promises,  and  the  earnest  of  the  greater  blessing 
of  immortality,  which  the  same  promises  entitle 
me  to  ? 

8.  The  ministration  of  angels  is  also  a  help  to 
my  belief  of  immortality  with  Christ. — "  They 
have  charge  over  us, — encamp  round  about  us, — 
bear  us  up  in  their  hands, — ^^joy  in  the  presence  of 
God  over  our  repentance, — and  are  all  ministering 
spirits,  sent  forth  to  minister  to  the  heirs  of  sal- 
vation.— As  our  angels,  they  always  behold  the 
face  of  our  Father  which  is  in  heaven. — When 
the  Son  of  man  shall  come  in  his  glory,  all  the 
holy  angels  shall  come  with  him,  and  he  shall 
send  them  forth,  and  they  shall  sever  the  wicked 
from  among  the  just."  Not  only  of  old  did  they 
appear  to  the  faithful  as  messengers  from  God,  but 
many  mercies  does  God  give  to  us  by  their  min- 
istry. And  that  they  are  now  so  friendly  and 
helpful  to  us,  and  make  up  one  societ}'  with  us, 
greatly  encourages  us  to  hope  that  we  are  made 
for  the  same  region,  employment,  and  converse. 
They  were  once  in  a  life  of  trial,  though  not  on 


'M  rious  SEFAUATE  spiRi'j  55  [Chap.  II 

earth ;  and  having  overcome,  they  rejoice  in  our 
victory.     The  world  above  us  is  not  uninhabited, 
nor  beyond  our  capacity  and  liope ;  but  we  are 
come  to  the  city  of  the  Jiving  God,  and  to  an  in 
numerable  company  of  angels. 

9.  Even  Satan  himself  by  his  temptations  has 
many  ways  cherished  my  hopes  of  immortality 
There  are  few  men,  I  think,  that  observe  what 
')asse3  within  them,  but  have  had  some  experience 
:if  such  inward  temptations,  as  show  that  the  au- 
thor of  them  is  an  invisible  enemy,  and  assure  us 
that  there  are  diabolical  spirits,  which  seek  man's 
misery  by  tempting  him  to  sin,  and  consequently 
that  future  happiness  or  misery  must  be  expected 
by  us  all. 

10.  More  especially  the  sanctifying  operations 
of  the  Spirit  of  God,  are  the  earnest  of  heaven, 
and  the  sure  prognostic  of  our  immortal  happi- 
ness. It  is  a  change  of  grand  importance  to  man, 
to  be  renewed  in  his  mind,  his  will,  and  life.  It 
repairs  his  depraved  faculties.  It  causes  man  to 
live  as  man,  who  was  degenerated  to  a  life  too  much 
like  the  brutes.  Men  are  slaves  to  sin  till  Christ 
makes  them  free.  "  Where  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is 
there  is  liberty."  If"  the  love  of  God  shed  abroad 
in  our  hearts,"  be  not  our  excellence,  health,  and 
beauty,  what  is  ?  "  That  which  is  born  of  the  flesh 
is  flesh,  and  that  which  is  born  of  the  Spirit,  is 
spirit.  '*  Without  Christ"  and  his  Spirit,  "  we  can 
do  nothing."  Our  dead  notions  and  reason,  though 
we  see  the   truth,   have   not  power  to   overcome 


Chap.   II.]  ARE    WITH    CHRIST.  35 

temptations,  nor  raise  up  man's  soul  to  its  origi- 
nal end,  nor  possess  us  with  the  love  and  joy- 
ful hope  of  future  blessedness.  It  were  better  for 
us  to  have  no  souls,  than  have  our  souls  void  of 
the  Spirit  of  God. — Heaven  is  the  design  and  end 
of  this  important  change.  What  is  our  knowledge 
and  faith,  but  to  know  and  believe  that  heaven 
consists  in  the  glory  and  love  of  God  there  ma- 
nifested, and  that  it  was  purchased  by  Christ,  and 
given  by  his  covenant.''  What  is  our  hope,  but 
"  the  hope  of  glory,"  which  we  through  the  Spirit 
wait  for?  What  is  our  love,  but  a  desire  of  com- 
munion with  the  blessed  God,  begun  here,  and 
perfected  hereafter?  What  Christ  teaches  and 
commands,  he  works  in  us  by  his  Spirit.  He 
sends  not  his  Spirit  to  make  men  craftier  than 
others  for  this  world,  but  '*  wiser  to  salvation,** 
and  more  holy  and  heavenly.  "  The  children  of 
this  world  are  in  their  generation  wiser  than  the 
children  of  light."  Heavenly  mindedness  is  the 
special  work  of  the  Spirit.  In  producing  this 
change,  the  Spirit  overcomes  all  opposition  from 
the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil.  Christ  first 
overcame  the  world,  and  teaches  and  causes  us 
to  overcome  it,  even  in  its  flatteries  and  its  frowns, 
"  Our  faith  is  our  victory."  Whether  this  victory 
be  easy  and  honorable  to  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  let 
us  appeal  to  our  experience  of  the  wickedness  of 
the  world,  and  of  our  own  weakness  and  falls. 
None  can  do  this  work  on  the  soul  of  man,  but 
God.    Not  the  most  learned  and  holy  teachers,  of 


36  PIOUS   SEPARATE    SPIRITS  [Chap.  II. 

the  wisest  and  most  aflectionate  parents,  or  the 
greatest  princes.  Evil  angels  neither  can,  nor  will 
do  it.  Good  angels  do  nothing  toward  it,  but  as 
obedient  ministers  of  God.  We  cannot  quicken, 
illuminate,  or  sanctify  ourselves ;  and  though  we 
have  some  power,  both  conscience  and  experience 
testify,  that  we  have  nothing  but  "  what  we  have 
received," — Christ  promised  his  Spirit  to  all  true 
believers,  to  be  in  them  as  his  advocate,  agent, 
seal,  and  mark  ;  and  indeed  the  Spirit  here,  and 
heaven  hereafter,  are  the  chief  of  his  promises. 
That  this  Spirit  is  given  to  all  true  believers,  is 
evident  by  the  effects  of  it.  They  have  ends, 
affections,  and  lives,  different  from  the  rest  of  man- 
kind :  they  live  upon  the  hope  of  a  better  life,  and 
their  heavenly  interest  overrules  all  the  opposite 
interests  of  this  world  ;  in  order  to  which  they 
live  under  the  conduct  of  divine  authority,  and  to 
obey  and  please  God  is  the  great  business  of  their 
lives.  The  men  of  the  world  discern  this  differ- 
ence, and  therefore  hate  and  oppose  them  because 
they  find  themselves  condemned  by  their  heavenly 
temper  and  conversation.  Believers  are  conscious 
of  this  difference ;  for  they  desire  to  be  better,  and 
to  trust  and  love  God  more,  and  to  have  more  of 
the  heavenly  life  and  comforts ;  and  when  their 
infirmities  m^ake  them  doubt  of  their  own  sinceri- 
ty, they  would  not  change  their  governor,  rule, 
or  hopes,  for  all  the  world  ;  and  it  is  never  so 
well  and  pleasant  with  them,  as  when  they  can 
trust  and  love  God  most;  and  in  their  worst  and 


Chap.  II.  j  AKE    WITH    CJIUIST.  37 

weakest  condition  they  would  juia  be  perfecl. 
Indeed,  uhatever  real  goodness  is  found  amon<,^ 
nien,  it  is  given  by  the  same  Spirit  of  Christ :  but 
it  is  notorious,  that,  in  lieavenly  niindedness  and 
virtue,  no  part  of  the  world  is  comparable  to  seri- 
ous Christians.  This  Spirit,  Christ  also  expressly 
promised,  as  the  means  and  pledges,  the  hrst-fruits 
and  earnest,  of  tlie  heavenly  glory;  and,  therefore, 
it  is  a  certain  proof  that  we  shall  have  such  a  glo- 
ry. He  that  gives  us  such  a  spiritual  change, 
wjiich  in  its  nature  and  tendency  is  heavenly;  he 
that  sets  our  hopes  aiid  hearts  on  heaven,  and 
turns  the  endeavors  of  our  lives  toward  future 
blessedness,  and  promised  this  preparatory  grace 
as  the  earnest  of  that  felicity,  may  well  be  trusted 
to  perform  his  word  in  our  complete,  eternal  glory. 
•  And  now,  O  weak  and  fearful  soul !  why  should- 
est  thou  draw  back,  as  if  the  matter  was  doubtful? 
Is  not  thy  foundation  firm?  Is  not  the  way  of  life, 
tiirough  the  valley  of  death,  made  safe  by  him 
that  conquered  death  ?  Art  thou  not  yet  delivered 
from  the  bondage  of  thy  fears?  Hast  thou  not 
long  ago  found  in  thee  the  motions  and  effectual 
operations  of  this  Spirit?  And  is  he  not  still  re- 
sidins"  and  workina;  in  tliee,  as  the  ag-ent  and  wii- 
!sess  of  Christ  ?  If  not,  whence  are  thy  groanings 
aifter  God,  thy  desires  to  be  nearer  to  Iws  glory, 
to  know  him  and  love  him  more?  Whence  came 
eU  the  pleasure  thou  hast  had  in  his  sacred  truth, 
and  ways,  and  service?  Who  subdued  for  thee 
thy  folly,  pride,  and  vain  desires  ?    Who  made  it 


<iS  PIOUS    SEPARATE    apipiTS  [Chap.    II. 

thy  choice  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  and  hear  hi6 
word,  aa  tlie  better  part,  and  count  the  lionors 
and  preferments  of  the  world  but  dung  and  dros<s  ? 
Who  breathed  in  all  those  requests  thou  hast  sent 
up  to  God?  Overvalue  not  corrupt  nature,  it 
brings  forth  no  such  fruits  as  these.  Remember 
what  thou  wast  in  the  hour  of  temptation,  how 
small  a  matter  has  drawn  thee  to  sin.  Forget  not 
the  days  of  thy  youthful  vanity.  Overlook  npt 
the  case  of  thy  sinful  neighbors,  who,  in  the 
midst  of  light,  still  live  in  darkness,  and  hear  not 
the  loudest  .calls  of  God.  Is  it  no  work  of  Christ*.'* 
Spirit  that  has  made  thee  to  differ?  X)»ou  hast 
nothing  to  boast  of,  and  mucii  to  be  humbled  and 
also  to  be  thankful  fur.  ,^  Thy  holy  desires  are, 
alas!  too  weak;  but  they  are  holy.  Thy  love 
has  been  too  cold  ;  but  it  is  the  most  holy  Go<l 
whom  thou  hast  loved.  Thy  hopes  have  been  too 
low  ;  but  thou  hast  hoped  in  God,  and  for  his  hea- 
venly glory.  Thy  prayers  have  been  too  dull  and 
interrupted  ;  but  thoy  hast  prayed  for  holiness  and 
heaven.  Thy  lahprs  bave  been  too  slothful ;  but 
thou  hast  labored  for  God  and  Christ,  and  the 
ijood  o-f  mankind.  Thouorh  thv  motion  was  too 
Mcak  and  slow,  it  has  been  God-ward,  and  there- 
fore it  is  from  God.  O  bless  the  Lord,  not  only 
for  giving  thee  his  word,  and  sealing  it  with  un- 
controled  mirades,  but  also  for  frequently  and 
remarkably  fullilling  his  promises,  ia  the  answer 
of  thy  prayers,  and  in  great  deliverance  of  thyself 
end  of  many  others;  and  that  he  has  by  rcgenera- 


Chap.  IL]  are  with  christ.  39 

tion  been  preparing  thee  for  the  light  of  glory! 
And  wilt  thou  yet  doubt  and  fe-ar,  against  all  this 
evidence,  experience,  and  foretaste? 

I  think  it  no  needless  labor  to  confirm  my  soul 
in  the  full  persuasion  of  the  truth  of  its  immortal 
nature,  and  of  a  future  life  of  joy  or  misery,  and 
of  the  certain  truth  of  the  Christian  faith.  I  can 
no  more  doubt  the  being  and  perfections  of  God, 
than  whether  there  be  an  earth  or  a  sun.  Chris- 
tianity is  only  known  by  revelation,  which  is  so 
attested  externally  to  the  world,  internally  to  holy 
souls,  as  makes  faith  a  ruling,  victorious,  and  com- 
fortable pxipciple.  But  the  soul's  immortality  and 
future  reward  is  known  in  some  measure  by  the 
light  of  nature,  and  more  perfectly  by  revelation. 
When  I  consider  the  great  unlikeness  of  men's 
hearts  and  lives  to  such  a  belief  as  we  all  profess, 
I  cannot  but  fear,  that  not  only  the  ungodly,  but 
most  that  truly  hope  for  glory,  have  a  far  weaker 
belief  of  the  soul's  immortality,  and  the  truth  of 
the  gospel,  than  they  are  apt  to  imagine.  Can  I 
he  fully  persuaded  of  the  future  rewards  and  pun- 
ishments of  souls,  and  that  we  shall  be  judo-ed 
hereafter  as  we  have  lived  here,  v/ithout  despising 
all  the  vanities  of  the  worhl,  and  setting  my  heart 
with  resolution  and  diligence  to  a  holy,  heavenly 
fruitful  life?  Who  could  stand  trifling,  as  most 
men  do,  at  the  door  of  eternity,  that  verily  believed 
his  immortal  soul  must  be  shortly  there  ?  Though 
such  a  one  had  no  certainty  of  his  own  salvation, 
he  would  nevertheless  search  and  try,  watch  and 


•iO  PIOUS    SEPARATE    SPIRITS  [Cliap.   II. 

pray,  and  spare  no  care,  cost,  or  labor,  to  make 
all  sure.  If  a  man  once  saw  heaven  and  hell, 
would  he  not  afterward  exceed  the  most  resolute 
believer?  I  confess  there  is  much  weakness  of 
luith  in  things  unseen,  even  where  there  is  since- 
rity. But  where  there  is  little  diligence  for  the 
world  to  come,  I  must  think  there  is  but  little  be- 
lief of  it,  and  that  such  persons  are  not  aware  how 
much  they  secretly  doubt  the  truth  of  it.  Most 
complain  of  the  uncertainty  of  their  title  to  salva- 
tion, and  very  little  of  their  uncertainty  whether 
there  be  a  heaven  and  a  hell.  Whereas  a  hearty 
persuasion  of  the  latter,  would  do  more  to  con- 
vince them  of  the  former  than  long  examinations, 
and  many  marks  of  trial.  It  would,  indeed,  con- 
found faith  and  reason,  if  in  the  body  we  had  as 
clear  and  lively  apprehensions  of  heaven  and  hell 
as  sight  would  occasion;  nor  is  the  soul  fit,  while 
in  the  body,  to  bear  such  a  sight.  But  yet  there 
is  an  overruling  seriousness,  to  which  the  soul 
must  be  brought  by  a  firm  persuasion  of  future 
things.  And  he  that  is  careful  and  serious  for 
this  world,  and  looks  after  a  better  only  as  a  se- 
condary object,  must  give  me  leave  to  think  that 
he  believes  but  as  he  lives,  and  that  his  doubting 
of  a  heaven  and  hell  is  greater  than  his  belief. 

O  then,  for  what  should  my  soul  more  pray, 
than  for  a  clearer  and  stronger  faith?  "  I  believe; 
Lord  help  my  unbelief!"  I  have  many  thousand 
times  groaned  to  thee  under  this  burden  of  vemain- 
ingdarkness  and  unbelief:  I  have  many  thousand 


Chap.  II. J  AKE    >VrrH    CHRIST.  41 

times  tlioiiglit  of  the  evidences  of  Christianity^ 
and  of  the  necessity  of  a  lively,  powerful,  active 
faith.  I  have  cried  to  thee  night  and  day,  '  Lord, 
increase  my  faith  !'  I  have  written  and  spoken 
that  to  others,  which  might  be  most  viseful  to  my- 
self, and  render  my  faith  more  like  sense.  Yet, 
Lord,  how  dark  is  this  world  !  What  a  dungeon 
is  flesh !  How  little  clearer  are  my  perceptions  of 
things  unseen,  than  th,ey  were  long  ago !  Is  no 
more  growth  of  them  to  be  expected?  Does  the 
soul  no  more  increase  in  vigorous  perception, 
when  the  body  no  mora  increases  in  the  vigor 
of  sensation?  Must  I  sit  down  with  so  slow  a 
measure,  when  I  am  almost  there,  where  faith  is 
changed  for  sight?  O  let  not  a  soul,  that  is  driv- 
en from  this  world,  and  weary  of  vanity,  and  can 
think  of  little  else  but  immortality,  that  seeks  and 
cries  both  night  and  day  for  the  heavenly  light, 
and  fain  would  have  some  foretaste  of  glory,  and 
some  more  of  the  tirst-fruits  of  the  promised  joys, 
— let  not  such  a  soul  either  long,  or  cry,  or  strive 
in  vain  !  Punish  not  my  former  grieving  of  thv 
Spirit,  by  deserting  a  soul  that  cries  for  thy  grace, 
so  near  its  great  and  inconceivable  change  !  Let 
me  not  languish  in  vain  desires,  at  the  door  of 
hope  ;  nor  pass  with  doubts  and  fears  from  this 
vale  of  misery  !  Which  should  be  the  season  v?f 
triumphant  faith,  and  hope,  and  joy,  if  not  when 
I  am  entering  on  the  world  of  joy?  O  thou,  that 
hast  left  us  so  many  words  of  promise,  *  that  our 
jov  may  he  full :  send,  O  somi  the  Coiijiorter;  for 


42  PIOUS  SErAR.vTC  spiRir-j  [Chap.  !!• 

without  liis  lieavenly  beams,  afiPr  a  thousand 
thoughts  and  cares,  it  will  still  be  night  and  win- 
ter with  itiy  soul !" 

Biit  I  fear  a  distrust  of  God  and  my  Redeemer 
has  had  too  great  a  hand  in  my  desires  after  a 
more  distinct  knowledge  than  God  ordinarily  gives 
to  sonls  in  (lesh.  I  know  that  I  should  implicitly, 
absolutely,  and  quietly  commit  my  soul  into  my 
lledeemer's  hands;  for  a  distrustful  care  of  the 
soul,  as  w^ell  as  the  body,  is  our  great  sin  and  mis- 
ery. Yet  we  must  desire  that  our  knowledge  and 
belief  may  be  as  distinct  as  divine  revelations  are. 
We  can  love  no  farther  than  w^e  know;  and  the 
more  we  know  of  God  and  glory,  the  more  we 
shall  love,  desire,  and  trust.  If  I  may  not  be 
ambitious  of  too  sensible  and  distinct  foretastes 
of  things  unseen,  yet  I  must  desire  and  beg  the 
most  fervent  love  of  them  of  which  I  am  capable, 
that  my  soul  may  not  pass  with  distrust  and  terror, 
but  with  suitable  triumphant  hopes,  to  everlasting 
pleasures.  "  O  Father  of  lights,  who  givest  wis- 
dom to  them  that  ask,  shut  not  up  this  sinful  soul 
in  darkness  !  Leave  me  not  to  grope  in  unsatisfied 
doubts,  at  the  door  of  celestial  light !  Deny  me 
not  now  the  lively  exercise  of  faith,  hope,  and 
love,  which  are  the  stirrings  of  the  new  creature, 
the  dawnings  of  eternal  day,  and  the  earnest  of  the 
promised  inheritance!"  Though,  like  Cicero's, 
after  reading  Plato's  book  on  immortality,  our 
doubts  return,  and  our  fear  interrupts  and  weakens 
our  desires  and  joys;  yet  I  find  that  it  is  chiefiv 


Chap.  III.J  ARE    WITH    CHRIST.  ^ 

an  irrational  fear,  occasioned  by  the  darkness  of 
the  mind,  the  greatness  of  the  change,  the  dreadful 
majesty  of  God,  and  man's  natural  aversion  to 
death,  even  when  reason  is  fully  satisfied  that  such 
fear  is  consistent  with  certain  safety.  Were  I  on 
the  top  of  a  castle  or  steeple,  fastened  by  the 
strongest  chains,  or  guarded  by  the  surest  battle- 
ments, I  could  not  possibly  look  down  without 
fear;  and  so  it  is  with  our  prospect  into  the  life  to 
come.  If,  therefore,  my  soul  sees  undeniable  evi- 
dence of  immortality,  and  is  able  by  irrefragable 
arguments  to  prove  a  future  blessedness ;  if  I  am 
convinced  that  divine  promises  are  true,  and  trust 
my  soul  and  all  my  hope  upon  them ;  then  nei- 
ther my  averseness  to  die,  nor  my  irrational  fear 
of  entering  upon  eternity,  can  invalidate  the  rea- 
sons of  my  hope,  or  prove  the  unsoundness  of  my 
faith,  but  only  the  weakness  of  it.  *'  Why  are  ye 
fearful,  O  ye  of  little  faith?"  was  Christ's  just  re- 
proof to  his  disciples.  A  timorous  heart  needs  to 
be  chided,  by  saying,  *'  Why  art  thou  cast  down, 
O  my  soul?  and  why  art  thou  disquieted  within 
me?     Hope  thou  in  God,'^  &c. 


OHAFTSR    ZZZ. 

)Vhat  it  is  to  depart,  and  to  be  with  Chnsc* 

Having  proved  that  faith  and  hope  have  a  cer- 
tain future  happiness  to  expect,  the  text  directs 


44  WHAT    IT    19    TO    DLTART,  [Cbap.   Ill 

inc  next  to  consider, — What  it  is  to  be  with  Christ ; 
and — AVhat  it  is  to  depart,  in  order  to  he  with  liirn. 

I.  To  be  witli  (Christ,  includes — Presence  witli 
liim, — Union  to  liini,  and — Participation  of  liis 
Iiappiness. 

1.  The  presence  of  Christ,  which  pious  separate 
spirits  shall  enjoy,  must  refer  to  his  Godhead  as 
well  as  to  his  human  soul  and  body.  We  shall 
be  present  with  the  divine  nature  of  Christ,  as 
manifested  in  and  by  his  glory.  He  teaches  iis  to 
pray,  "  Our  Father,  which  art  in  heaven,"  because 
in  heaven  the  P'ather  gloriously  shines  forth  to 
lioly  souls.  The  soul  of  man  is  eminently  said 
to  be  in  the  head,  because  there  it  UMderstand^^ 
and  reasons;  and  not  in  the  foot  or  hand,  though 
it  be  also  there.  As  we  look  a  man  in  the  face 
when  we  talk  to  him,  so  we  look  up  to  heaven 
when  we  pray  to  God.  Though  *'  in  God  we  live, 
and  move,  and  have  our  being,"  both  as  the  God 
of  nature  and  grace,  yet  by  the  works  and  splen- 
dor of  his  glory  he  is  eminently  in  heaven,  man- 
ifesting himself  there  by  some  created  glory;  for 
}»is  essence  is  the  same  every  where.  We  shall 
be  present  with  the  human  nature  of  Christ,  both 
soul  and  body.  But  here  our  present  narrow 
thoughts  must  not  too  boldly  presume  to  deter- 
mine the  difference  between  Christ's  glorified  bo- 
dy and  his  flesh  upon  earth  ;  nor  where  his  glo- 
rified body  is,  nor  how  far  it  extends;  nor  where- 
in his  soul  and  his  glorified  body  differ,  seeing  it 


Chap.  III.]  AND  TO  BE  WITH  CHRIST.  45 

is  called  a  spiritual  body.  We  can  conceive  no 
more  of  such  a  body  than  that  it  is  pure,  in- 
corruptible, invisible  to  mortal  eyes,  and  fitted  to 
the  most  perfect  state  of  the  soul.  Nor  need  we 
wonder  how  a  whole  world  of  glorified  bodies  can 
all  of  them  be  present  with  the  one  body  of  Christ; 
for  as  the  solar  beams  are  so  present  with  the  air 
that  none  can  discern  the  difference  of  the  places 
which  they  possess,  and  a  world  of  bodies  are  pre- 
sent with  them  both;  so  may  all  our  bodies,  with- 
out any  confusion,  be  present  with  Christ's  body. 
2.  The  union  to  Christ,  which  pious  separate 
spirits  shall  also  enjoy,  must  be  like  that  of  sub- 
jects to  their  king  ;  but  how  much  more  we  know 
not.  The  more  spiritual,  pure,  and  noble  any  na- 
tures are,  the  more  inclination  they  have  to  union. 
Such  instances  of  union,  as  the  vine  and  branches, 
tlie  head  and  members,  are  of  extensive  import; 
yet  being  but  similitudes,  we  cannot  determine 
how  extensive.  Far  be  it  from  us  to  think  that 
Christ's  glorified  body  is  of  such  an  earthly  com- 
position, and  of  such  a  limited  extent,  as  it  was 
here;  for  then,  as  his  disciples  and  a  few  more 
were  present  with  him,  while  the  rest  of  the 
world  were  absent  and  had  none  of  his  company, 
so  it  would  be  in  heaven.  But  all  true  believers, 
from  the  creation  to  the  end  of  the  world,  as  well 
as  a  Paul,  shall  "  be  with  Christ,  and  see  his  glo- 
ry." And  though  there  will  be  different  degrees 
of  glory,  as  there  have  been  of  holiness,  yet  none 
in  heaven  are  at  such  a  distance  from  Christ  as 
not  to  enjoy  the  felicity  of  his  presence. 


49  WHAT    IT    IS    TO    DEPART,  LChap.   Ill- 

3.  We  shall  alro  have  communion  witli  the  di- 
vine and  human  natures  oi'  Christ;  both  which 
shall  be  the  felicitating  objects  of  perfect  knowledge 
and  holy  love  to  the  separate  spirits,  before  the 
resurrection.  The  chief  part  of  this  communion 
will  consist  in  Christ's  communications  to  the 
soul.  As  the  whole  creation  is  more  dependent  on 
God  than  the  fruit  on  the  tree,  or  plant  on  the 
earth,  or  the  members  on  the  body,  so  God  uses 
second  causes  in  his  communications  to  inferior 
natures  ;  and  it  is  more  than  probable  that  Christ's 
Imman  nature  is  the  second  cause  of  communica- 
ting both  grace  and  glory,  both  to  man.  in  the  bo- 
dy and  to  the  separate  soul.  As  the  sv\n  is  both 
the  cause  and  object  of  sight  to  the  eye,  so  is 
Christ  to  the  soul.  For  as  God,  so  the  Lamb  is 
the  light  and  glory  of  the:  heavenly  Jerusalem, 
and  in  his  light  they  chall  have  light.  Though 
Christ  shall  give  up  the  kingdom  to  the  Father, 
so  that  God  may  be  "  all  in  all,"  and  his  creatures 
be  fully  restored  to  his  favor,  and  a  healing  gov- 
ernment for  recovering  lapsed  souls  to  God  shall 
be  no  more  needed;  yet  surely  he  will  not  cease 
to  be  oui*  Mediator,  the  church's  head,  and  the 
channel  of  everlasting  light,  life,  and  love  to  all 
his  members.  As  "  we  now  live  because  he  lives,* 
like  the  branches  in  the  vine ;  and  as  the  Spirit 
that  now  quickens,  enlightens,  and  sanctifies  ns, 
is  first  the  Spirit  of  Christ  before  it  is  ours,  and 
is  communicated  from  God  through  him  to  us;  so 
will  it  be  in  the  state  of  glory:  there  our  union 


Chap.  Itl«]  AND    TO    BE    WITH    CHPI3T-  47 

and  communion  with  him'will  be  perfected,  and 
not  destroyed  or  diminished.  As  it  would  be  ar- 
rogance to  think  we  shall  be  above  the  need  and 
use  of  Christ  and  his  communications;  so,  I  doubt 
Jiot,  we  shall  erer  have  use  for  one  another,  as  is 
plainly  intimated  by  "  sitting  down  with  Abraham, 
Isaac,  and  Jacob,  in  the  kingdom  of  God  ;''  by  be- 
ing "  in  Abraham's  bosom  ;"  by  "  sitting  at  Christ's 
right  and  left  hand  in  his  kingdom;"  by 'being 
*'  made  ruler  over  ten  cities ;"  and  by  joining  with 
those  that  "sing  the  song  of  Moses  and  of  theLamb." 
And  certainly  if  I  be  "  with  Christ,"  I  shall  be 
with  all  them  that  are  with  Christ,  even  with  all 
the  heavenly  society.  Our  mortal  bodies^  must 
have  so  much  room,  that  the  earth  is  little  enough 
for  all  its  inhabitants.  So  narrow  is  our  capacity 
of  communion  here,  that  those  of  the  antrpodes, 
or  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  earth,  are  almost 
as  strange  to  us  as  if  they  were  in  another  world. 
What  strangers 'are  we  to  those  of  another  king- 
dom, county,  or  parish,  and  even  of  another  house* 
But  we  have  great  cause  to  think,  by  many  scri]»- 
tural  expressions,  that  our  heavenly  union  and 
communion  will  be  nearer  and  more  extensive, 
and  that  all  the  glorified  shall  know  each  other. 
'It  is,  I  confess,  a  pleasant  thought  to  me,  and 
greatly  helps  my  willingness  to  die,  to  think  that 
I  shall  go  to  all  the  holy  ones,  both  Christ,  and 
angels,  and' pious  separate  spirits.  ,  They  are  each 
of  them  better  and  more  amiable  than  I  am«  Ma- 
ny are  better   than  one,   and   the   perfect   whol« 


48  WHAT    IT    Is    TO    DEPART,  [Cliup.  III. 

tlian  a  sinful  part,  and  the  New  Jerusalem  is  tlie 
glory  of  the  creation.  God  has  given  me  a  love 
to  all  that  are  lioly,  for  their  holiness  ;  and  a  love 
to  the  work  of  love  and  praise,  which  they  con- 
tinually and  perfectly  perform  ;  and  a  love  to  his 
celestial  habitation,  to  his  glory  shining  tliere. 
My  old  acquaintance  with  many  a  holy  person 
gone  to  Christ,  makes  my  thoughts  of  heaven  the 
more  familiar  to  me.  O  how  many  of  them  could 
I  name !  And  it  is  no  small  encouragement  to 
one  that  is  to  enter  upon  an  unseen  world,  to 
think  that  he  goes  no  untrodden  path,  nor  enters 
into  a  solitary  or  singular  state;  but  follows  all 
that,  from  the  creation  to  this  day,  have  passed  by 
death  into  endless  life.  O  how  emboldening  to 
consider  that  I  am  to  go  the  same  way,  and  to 
the  same  place  and  state,  with  all  the  believers 
and  saints  that  have  ever  gone  before  me  ! 

II.  But  I  must  *'  depart  before  I  can  thus  '*  be 
with  Christ."  I  must  particularly  depart — from 
this  body — from  all  its  former  delights — and  also 
from  more  rational  pleasures  belonging  to  the 
j)resent  life  and  world. 

1.  I  must  depart  from  this  body.  Here  these 
eyes  must  see  no  more,  this  hand  move  no  more, 
these  feet  walk  no  more,  this  tongue  speak  no 
more.  As  much  as  I  have  loved,  and  over-loved 
this  body,  1  must  leave  it  to  the  grave.  There 
must  it  lie  and  rot  in  darkness,  as  a  neglected  and 
loathsome  thing.     This  is  the  fruit  of  sin,  and  na- 


Chap.   III.]  AND    TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST.  49 

lure  would  not  have  it  so.  But  it  is  only  my  shell, 
my  tabernacle,  my  clothing,  and  not  my  soul  itself. 
It  is  only  a  dissolution ;  earth  to  earth.  It  is  but 
an  instrument  laid  by,  when  all  its  work  is  done ; 
a  servant  dismissed,  vv'hen  his  service  is  ended ; 
as  I  cast  by  my  lute  when  I  have  better  employ- 
ment. It  is  but  as  flowers  die  in  autumn,  and 
plants  in  winter.  It  is  but  a  separation  from  a 
troublesome  companion,  and  putting  off  a  shoe 
that  pinched  me.  Many  a  sad  and  painful  hour, 
many  a  weary  night  and  day,  have  I  had.  What 
cares  and  fears,  what  griefs  and  groans,  has  this 
body  cost  me  !  Alas  !  how  much  of  my  precious 
time  has  been  spent  to  maintain,  pleaoC,  or  repair 
it !  Often  have  I  thought  that  it  cost  me  so  dear 
to  live,  yea,  to  live  a  painful  weary  life,  that  were 
it  not  for  the  higher  ends  of  life,  I  had  little  rea- 
son to  be  much  in  love  with  it,  or  be  loth  to  leave 
it.  To  depart  from  such  a  body,  is  but  to  remove 
from  a  sordid  habftation.  I  know  it  is  the  curious 
wonderful  work  of  God,  and  not  to  be  despised 
or  unjustly  dishonored,  but  admired  and  well 
used ;  yet  our  reason  wonders  that  so  noble  a 
spirit  should  be  so  meanly  housed,  for  we  must 
call  it  "  our  vile  body.'*  To  depart  from  such  a 
body,  is  but  to  be  "  loosed  from  the  bondage  of 
corruption,"  from  the  clog  and  prison  of  the  soul. 
That  body,  which  was  a  fit  servant  to  the  soul  of 
innocent  man,  is  now  become  as  a  prison.  And 
further,  to  depart  from  such  a  body,  is  but  to  be 
separated  from  an  accidental  enemy,  and  one  of 
D  5 


50  WHAT    IT    JS    TO    DEPART,  [Chap.  III. 

our  greatest  and  most  hurtful  enemies  ;  not,  in- 
deed, as  the  work  of  our  Creator,  but  as  the  effect 
of  sin.  What  coukl  Satan,  or  any  other  enemy 
of  our  souls,  have  done  against  us  without  our 
flesh?  What  is  it  but  the  interest  of  this  body 
that  stands  in  competition  with  the  interest  of 
God  and  our  souls?  What  else  do  the  profane 
sell  their  heavenly  inheritance  for,  as  Esau  his 
birthright?  WHiat  else  is  the  bait  of  ambition, 
covetousness,  and  sensuality  ?  What  takes  up 
the  thoughts  and  cares  which  we  should  lay  out 
upon  things  spiritual  and  heavenly,  but  this  body 
and  its  life  ?  What  steals  away  men's  hearts  from 
the  heavenly  pleasures  of  faith,  hope,  and  love, 
but  the  pleasures  of  this  flesh?  This  draws  us  to 
sin,  and  hinders  us  from  and  in  our  duty.  Were 
it  not  for  bodily  interests  and  temptations,  how 
much  more  innocent  and  holy  might  I  live!  I 
should  have  nothing  to  care  for,  but  to  please 
God  and  be  pleased  in  him,  w^re  it  not  for  the 
care  of  this  bodily  life.  What  employment  should 
my  will  and  love  have  but  to  delight  in  God,  and 
love  him  and  his  interest,  were  it  not  for  the  love 
of  the  body  and  its  concerns  ?  By  this  the  mind 
is  darkened,  the  thoughts  diverted,  our  wills  cor- 
rupted, our  heart  and  time  alienated  from  God, 
our  guilt  increased,  our  heavenly  desires  and  hopes 
destroyed  ;  life  is  made  unholy  and  uncomfortable, 
and  death  terrible.  God  and  souls  are  separated, 
and  eternal  life  is  neglected  and  in  danger  of  be- 
ing utterly  lost.     I  know  that  in  all  this  the  sin- 


Chap.  III.]  AND   TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST.  51 

ful  soul  is  the  chief  cause  and  agent:  but  is  not 
bodily  interest  its  temptation,  bait,  and  end  ?  Is 
not  the  body,  and  its  life  and  pleasure,  the  chief 
illuring  cause  of  all  this  sin  and  misery?  And 
shall  I  take  such  a  body  to  be  better  than  heaven, 
or  refuse  to  be  loosed  from  so  troublesome  a  yoke- 
fellow, and  separated  from  so  burdensome  and 
dangerous  a  companion? 

2.  I  must  depart  from  all  the  former  pleasures 
of  this  body.  I  must  taste  no  more  sweetness  in 
meat  or  drink,  in  rest  or  action,  or  any  ~i  uch  thing 
as  now  delights  me.  Houses  and  lands,  goods  and 
wealth  must  all  be  left;  and  the  place  where  I  live 
must  know  me  no  more.  All  I  labored  for,  or 
took  delight  in,  must  be  no  more  to  me  than  if 
they  had  never  been.  But  consider,  O  my  soul! 
Thy  former  pleasures  are  already  past.  Thou 
losest  none  of  them  by  death,  for  they  are  all  lost 
before;  unless  immortal  grace  has  made  them  im- 
mortal by  sanctifying  them.  All  that  death  does 
to  them  is  to  prevent  the  repetition  of  them  upon 
earth.  Is  not  the  pleasure  which  we  lose  bj^  death 
common  to  every  brute  ?  Meat  is  as  sweet  to 
them,  and  ease  as  welcome,  and  appetite  as  vehe- 
ment. Why  then  should  it  seem  hard  to  us  to 
lose  that,  when  God  pleases,  which  we  deprive 
the  brutes  of  at  our  pleasure  ?  If  we  are  believ- 
ers, we  only  exchange  these  delights  of  life  for 
the  greater  delights  of  a  life  with  Christ;  a  com- 
fort which  our  fellow-creatures  the  brutes  have 
not.     Are  not  the  pleasures  of  life  usually  embit- 


53  WHAT   IT   IS   TO    DEPART,  [Chap.   HI. 

tered  with  such  pain  that  ihey  seldom  counter- 
vail the  attending  vanity  and  vexation?  It  is  true, 
nature  desires  life  under  sullerings  that  are  tolera- 
ble, rather  than  die:  but  that  is  not  so  much  from 
the  sensible  pleasure  of  life,  as  from  mere  natural 
inclination  to  life,  which  God  has  implanted  in  us. 
Do  we  not  willingly  interrupt  these  pleasures  eve- 
ry night,  when  we  betake  ourselves  to  sleep?  To 
say  that  rest  is  my  pleasure  is  but  to  say,  that  my 
daily  labors  and  cares  are  so  much  greater  than 
my  waking  pleasures,  that  I  am  glad  to  lay  by 
both  together.  If  we  can  thus  be  content  every 
night  to  die,  as  it  were,  to  all  our  waking  plea- 
sures, why  sliould  we  be  unwilling  to  die  to  them 
all  at  once  ? — If  they  be  forbidden  pleasures 
which  you  are  unwilling  to  leave,  those  must  be 
left  before  you  die,  otherwise  you  had  better 
never  have  been  born.  Every  wise  and  godly 
man  casts  them  off  with  detestation.  Indeed,  the 
same  cause  which  makes  men  unwilling  to  live  a 
holy  life,  has  a  great  hand  in  making  them  unwil- 
ling to  die — even  because  they  are  loath  to  leave 
the  pleasures  of  sin.  If  the  wicked  be  converted, 
he  must  be  gluttonous  and  drunken  no  more;  he 
must  live  in  pride,  vanity,  worldly-mindedness, 
and  sensual  pleasures  no  more;  and  therefore  he 
draws  back  from  a  holy  life,  as  it  were  from  death 
itself.  But  what  is  this  to  those  who  "have  mor- 
tified the  flesh  with  the  affections  and  lusts?" 
Consider  also,  that  these  forbidden  pleasures  are 
the  great  impediments  both  of  our  holiness  and 


Chap.   III.j  AND    TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST.  53 

of  our  truest  pleasures.  One  of  the  reasons  why 
God  forbids  them,  is  because  they  hinder  us  from 
better;  and  if,  for  our  own  good,  we  must  forsake 
them  when  we  turn  to  God,  we  should  therefore 
be  the  more  willing  to  die,  in  order  to  be  free  from 
the  danger  of  them  ;  and  especially  since  death 
will  transmit  us  to  infinitely  greater  pleasures. 

3.  I  must  also  depart  from  the  more  rational 
pleasures  which  I  have  enjoyed  in  this  body  ;  as, 
for  instance,  from  my  present  studies,  which  are 
delights  far  above  those  of  sensual  sinners.  But 
let  me  consider — how  small  is  our  knowledge 
compared  with  our  ignorance!  How  little  does 
the  knowledge  of  the  learned  differ  from  the 
thoughts  of  a  child!  As  trifles  are  the  matter  of 
childish  knowledge,  so  artificial  words  and  forms 
make  up  more  of  the  learning  of  the  world  than 
is  commonly  understood.  God,  and  the  life  to 
come,  are  little  better  known  by  the  learned,  and 
often  much  less  than  by  many  of  the  unlearned. 
Of  how  little  use  is  it  to  know  what  is  contained 
in  many  hundred  volumes  that  fill  our  libraries, 
and  have  given  their  authors  the  name  of  virtuosi ; 
not  for  their  having  the  virtue  to  live  to  God,  or 
evercome  temptations  from  the  flesh  and  the  world, 
and  secure  their  everlasting  hopes  !  Much  of  our 
reading  and  learning,  alas!  does  us  more  harm 
than  good.  Many  a  precious  hour  is  lost  in  them, 
that  should  be  employed  in  higher  pursuits.  To 
many,  I  fear,  it  is  as  unholy  a  pleasure  as  others 
take  in  thinking  of  lands  and  honors;  only  the 


54  WHAT   IT   IS   TO    DEPART,  [Cbap.  Ill 

more  dangerous  for  being  the  less  suspected.  I 
know  the  knowledge  of  natural  things  is  valuable, 
and  may  be  sanctified,  and  made  some  way  useful 
to  my  highest  ends,  and  I  would  be  at  any  ex- 
pense to  procure  more.  But  I  must  earnestly 
pray,  "May  the  Lord  forgive  me  the  hours  that 
I  have  spent  in  reading  things  less  profitable,  for 
the  sake  of  pleasing  a  mind  that  would  fain  know 
every  thing,  instead  of  spending  them  for  the  in- 
crease of  holiness  in  myself  and  others."  Yet  I 
must  thankfully  acknowledge  to  God,  that  "from 
my  youth  he  taught  me  to  begin  with  things  of 
the  greatest  weight,  and  to  refer  most  of  my  other 
studies  thereto,  and  to  spend  my  days  under  the 
motives  of  necessity  and  profit  to  myself,  and 
those  that  were  committed  to  me."  I  would  have 
men  most  relish  that  learning  in  their  health 
which  they  will  find  sweetest  in  sickness,  and 
when  near  to  death.  And,  alas !  how  expensive 
a  vanity  is  this  knowledge!  Though  it  little  dif- 
fers from  a  pleasant  dream,  yet  to  attain  a  little 
excellency  in  it,  how  many  laborious  days  and 
weeks  must  it  cost  us!  "Much  study  is  a  weari- 
ness of  the  flesh,  and  he  that  increaseth  know- 
ledge increaseth  sorrow."  What  painful  diseases 
and  loss  of  bodily  ease  and  health  has  it  occa- 
sioned me!  What  envy  and  opposition  has  it  ex- 
posed me  to !  And  should  a  man  be  loath  to  die 
for  fear  of  leaving  such  troublesome,  costly  learn- 
ing and  knowledge?  Let  me  especially  consider 
that  we  shall  certainly  have  a  nobler  sweeter,  and 


Chap.  111.]  AND    TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST.  55 

more  extensive  knowledge  than  is  here  attainable. 
Love  never  fails,  and  we  can  love  no  more  than 
we  know :  "  But  prophecies  shall  fail ;  tongues 
shall  cease ;  knowledge,"  such  as  we  now  have, 
*' shall  vanish  away.  When  I  was  a  child  I  spake 
as  a  child,  I  understood  as  a  child,  I  thought  as  a 
child ;  but  when  I  became  a  man  I  put  away  child- 
ish things.  For  now  we  see  through  a  glass  dark- 
ly, but  then  face  to  face  ;  now  I  know  in  part,  but 
then  shall  I  know,  even  as  also  I  am  known;"  for 
though  my  knowledge  will  not  be  like  that  of  the 
blessed  God,  it  will  be  like  that  of  holy  spirits. 
In  order  for  a  physician  to  describe  the  disease  of 
his  patient,  he  needs  much  reading  and  close  in- 
quiry;  and  after  all,  he  goes  much  upon  conjec- 
tures, and  his  knowledge  is  mixed  with  many  un- 
certainties and  mistakes ;  but  when  he  opens  his 
corpse  his  knowledge  is  more  full  and  true,  and 
obtained  with  greater  ease  and  speed.  A  coun- 
tryman knows  the  town,  fields,  and  rivers,  plants, 
and  animals,  where  he  dwells,  with  ease,  pers- 
picuity, and  certainty,  when  mere  geographical 
knowledge  is  liable  to  many  mistakes.  So  the 
sight  of  God  and  heaven  will  deserve  the  name  of 
wisdom,  while  our  present  glimpse  is  but  philoso- 
phy or  the  love  of  wisdom.  We  should  not,  there- 
fore, fear  death,  for  fear  of  losing  our  knowledge; 
but  rather  long  for  the  world  of  glorious  light, 
that  we  may  get  out  of  this  darkness,  into  easy, 
joyful,  and  satisfying  knowledge. 

Friendship  is  one  of  the  more  rational  plea- 


56  WHAT  IT  IS  TO  DEPART,  [cbap.  I/J. 

sures  enjoyed  in  this  body,  and  from  wiiich  I  must 
depart.  lie  that  believes  not  that  there  are  far 
more  and  better  friends  in  heaven  than  there  are 
on  earth,  believes  not,  as  he  ought,  that  there  is  a 
heaven.  Our  friends  here  are  wise;  but  they  are 
also  unwise.  They  are  faithful,  but  partly  un- 
faithful. They  are  holy,  but,  alas!  too  sinful. 
They  have  the  image  of  God,  but  it  is  blotted  and 
dishonored  by  their  faults.  They  do  God  and  his 
church  much  service ;  but  they  also  do  too  much 
for  Satan,  even  when  they  intend  the  honor  of 
God.  They  promote  the  Gospel ;  but  they  also 
hindei  it  by  their  weakness  and  ignorance,  their 
selfishness,  pride,  and  passion,  their  divisions  and 
contentions.  They  are  our  helpers  and  comfort- 
ers ;  but  how  often  are  they  also  our  hinderance, 
trouble,  and  grief:  in  heaven  they  are  perfectly 
wise,  and  holy,  and  faithful ;  and  there  is  nothing 
in  them,  nor  done  by  them,  but  what  is  amiable 
to  God  and  man.  With  our  faithful  friends  we 
have  here  a  mixture  of  those  that  are  useless  and 
burdensome,  or  hypocritical  and  malicious.  But  in 
heaven  there  are  none  but  the  wise  and  holy ;  no 
hypocrites,  no  burdensome  neighbors,  no  treache- 
rous, oppressive,  or  persecuting  enemies.  Christ 
loved  his  disciples,  his  kindred,  and  all  mankind, 
and  took  pleasure  in  doing  good  to  all ;  and  so  did 
his  apostles;  but  how  poor  a  recompense  had  he 
or  they  from  any  but  from  God  !  Christ's  "  breth- 
ren believed  not  on  him."  Peter  denied  him. 
*'A11  his  disciples  forsook  him  and  flod."     4nd 


Chap.  III.]  AND   TO    BE    WITH    CHRI3T.  57 

%yhat  then  could  be  expected  from  others  ?  No 
friends  have  a  perfect  suitableness  to  each  other; 
and  those  inequalities  that  are  nearest  to  us  are 
most  troublesome.  So  various  and  contrary  are 
our  apprehensions,  interests,  educations,  our  tem- 
pers, inclinations,  and  temptations,  that  instead  of 
wondering  at  the  discord  and  confusions  of  the 
world,  we  may  rather  admire  the  providence  of 
God  which  maintains  so  much  order  and  concord. 
The  greatest  crimes  that  have  been  charged  upon 
me,  have  been  those  things  which  I  thought  to  be 
my  greatest  duties ;  and  for  those  parts  of  my  obe- 
dience to  God  and  my  conscience  which  cost  me 
dearest,  and  where  I  pleased  my  flesh  least,  I 
pleased  the  world  least.  And  is  this  tumultuous, 
militant  world,  a  place  that  I  should  be  loath  to 
leave  1 

I  must  depart  from  all  the  means  of  grace^ 
though  more  precious  to  me  than  all  earthly  en- 
joyments. Shall  I  love  the  name  of  heaven  better 
than  heaven  itself?  Is  not  the  possession  of  glory 
better  than  the  promise  of  it?  If  a  light  and 
guide  through  the  wilderness  be  good,  surely  the 
glorious  end  must  be  better.  It  hath  pleased  God 
that  all  things  on  earth,  even  the  sacred  Scriptures, 
should  bear  the  marks  of  our  state  of  imperfec- 
tion. Imperfect  persons  were  the  penmen.  Im- 
perfect human  language  is  the  conveyance.  Hea- 
ven will  not,  to  perfect  spirits,  be  made  the  occa- 
sion of  so  many  errors  and  controversies  as  the 
Scriptures  are  to  us  imperfect  mortals.  Yea,  heaven 


58  WHAT   IT  IS   TO    DEPART,  [Chap.  III. 

is  the  more  desirable,  because  there  I  shall  belier 
understand  the  Scriptures  than  here  I  can  ever 
hope  to  do.  To  leave  my  Bible,  and  to  go  to  the 
God  and  heaven  which  the  Bible  reveals,  will  he 
no  otherwise  my  loss  than  to  leave  the  picture  for 
the  presence  of  my  friend.  As  for  mere  human 
writings  and  instructions,  the  pleasure  of  my  min;-l 
is  much  abated  by  their  great  imperfection;  and 
why  should  I  think  that  my  own  are  blameless? 
I  must  for  ever  be  thankful  for  the  holy  instruc- 
tions and  writings  of  others,  notwithstanding  hu- 
man frailty  ;  and  so  must  I  be  thankful  that  God 
hath  made  any  use  of  my  own  for  the  good  of  souls 
and  the  edification  of  his  church.  But  how  many 
alloys  are  there  to  such  comforts  ?  If  good  men 
and  good  books  or  sermons  make  the  world  seem 
over-lovely,  it  will  be  the  mercy  of  God  to  abate 
the  temptation.  When  we  are  dead  to  the  love  of 
the  godly  themselves,  of  learning,  books,  and  or- 
dinances, so  far  as  they  serve  a  selfish  interest 
and  tempt  our  hearts  from  heavenly  aspirations  ; 
then  indeed  "the  world  is  crucified  to  us,  and  we 
to  it." 

Of  all  things,  a  departing  soul  has  least  cause 
to  fear  losing  the  knowledge  of  worldly  affairs. 
If  the  sun  gives  light  and  heat  to  the  earth,  why 
should  I  think  that  blessed  spirits  have  no  acquain- 
tance with  earthly  concerns?  From  the  top  of  a 
hill  I  can  see  more  than  from  below ;  and  shall  I 
know  less  of  earth  from  heaven  than  I  do  now? 
It  is  unlikely  that  my  capacity  will  be  so  little,  or 


Chap.  III.]  AND    TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST.  59 

that  Christ  and  all  the  angels  will  be  so  strange  to 
me  as  to  give  me  no  notice  of  things  so  interesting 
to  my  God  and  Redeemer,  to  the  holy  society  of 
which  I  am  member,  and  to  myself  as  a  member 
of  that  society.  Spirits  are  most  active  and  of 
quick  and  powerful  communication.  They  need 
not  send  letters,  nor  write  books,  nor  lift  up  a 
voice.  And  as  activity,  so  unity  is  greatest  where 
there  is  most  perfection.  Their  knowledge,  love 
and  joy  will  be  one.  My  celestial  advancement, 
therefore,  will  be  no  diminution,  but  an  inconceiv- 
able increase,  of  my  desirable  knowledge  of  things 
on  earth.  If,  indeed,  I  shall  know  less  of  things 
below,  it  will  be  because  the  knowledge  of  them 
is  a  part  of  vanity  and  vexation,  which  have  no 
place  in  heaven.  1  need  not  be  afraid  to  hear  any 
more  of  bloody  wars,  desolated  countries,  dissi- 
pated churches,  persecuted  Christians,  silenced 
preachers,  party  conflicts,  contentious  divines,  cen- 
sorious professors  of  religion,  with  the  cries  of 
the  poor,  or  the  endless  complaints  of  the  melan- 
choly. 

Nor  need  I  fear  what  other  men  are  pleased  to 
suggest,  that  the  church  will  want  me.  Is  it  I, 
or  God,  that  must  choose  his  servants,  and  cut 
out  their  work  ?  Am  I  doing  God's  Avork,  or  my 
own  ?  If  God's,  must  not  he  say  what,  and  when, 
and  how  long?  And  will  not  his  will  and  choice 
be  best?  If  I  believe  not  this,  how  do  I  take  him 
for  Tiiy  God?  Does  God,  or  I,  know  best  what 
is  yet  to  be  done,  and  who  is  fittest  to  do  it? — 


60  WHAT   IT    IS    TO    DEPART,  [Chap.  III. 

What  am  I  to  those  more  excellent  persons  who 
in  all  ages  God  hath  taken  out  of  the  world? 
Have  not  many  servants  of  Christ  died  in  their 
youth,  who  were  far  more  likely  to  win  souls  and 
glorify  God  than  I  am,  or  ever  have  been?  And 
shall  I,  at  seventy-six  years  of  age,  after  such  a 
life  of  unspeakable  mercies,  and  after  almost  fifty- 
three  years  of  comfortable  help  in  the  service  of 
my  Lord,  be  now  afraid  of  my  reward,  and  shrink 
at  the  sentence  of  death,  and  still  be  desirous  to 
stay  here,  under  pretence  of  farther  service  ? 
We  know  not  what  is  best  for  the  church,  as  God 
does.  The  church  and  the  world  are  not  ours, 
but  his:  not  our  desires,  therefore,  but  his  will 
must  measure  out  its  mercies.  Nothing  ever  lay 
so  heavy  on  my  heart  as  the  sin  and  misery  of 
mankind,  and  to  think  how  much  of  the  world 
lies  in  folly  and  wickedness.  And  for  what  can 
I  so  heartily  pray,  as  for  the  world's  recovery  ? 
And  it  is  his  will  that  I  should  show  a  holy  and 
universal  love,  by  praying,  "  Let  thy  name  be 
hallowed ;  Thy  kingdom  come;  Thy  will  be  done 
on  earth,  as  it  is  in  heaven."  Yet,  alas  !  how  un- 
like is  earth  to  heaven  !  What  sin  and  ignorance, 
confusion  and  cruelties,  reign  and  prosper  here! 
Without  a  wonderful  change,  even  by  a  general 
miracle,  how  little  hope  appears  that  ever  these 
prayers  should  be  answered  ?  Indeed,  it  make? 
us  better  to  desire  that  others  may  be  better  ;  and 
God  seems  to  permit  the  ignorance  and  confusion 
of  thig  world,  to  help  us  the  more  to  value  and 


Chap.  III.]  AND   TO   EE    WITH    CHRIST.  01 

desire  the  world  of  light,  love,  and  order.  If  I 
am  any  way  useful  to  the  world,  undeserved  mer- 
cy hath  made  me  so,  for  which  I  must  be  thank- 
ful; how  long  I  shall  be  so,  is  not  my  business  to 
determine,  but  my  Lord's.  As  God  will  be  served 
and  pleased  by  a  wonderful  variety  of  animals  and 
vegetables,  so  he  will  by  their  successive  gene- 
rations. If  one  flower  fall  or  die,  others  in  future 
summers  shall  arise  from  the  same  root.  God 
will  have  other  generations  to  succeed  us ;  let  us 
thank  him  that  we  have  had  our  time.  And  could 
W8  without  selfishness  love  others  as  ourselves, 
and  God  as  God,  it  would  comfort  us  at  death  to 
have  others  survive  us,  and  the  world  continue, 
and  God  still  be  God,  and  be  glorified  in  his  -works. 
Love  would  say,  "  I  shall  live  in  my  successors ; 
I  shall  more  than  live  in  the  life  of  the  world ; 
and  most  of  all,  in  the  eternal  life  and  glory  of 
God."  Nor  will  God  try  us  with  too  long  a  life 
of  temptations,  lest  we  should  grow  too  familiar 
where  we  should  be  strangers,  and  be  utterly 
strangers  to  our  home.  No  wonder  the  world  was 
ready  for  a  deluge,  by  a  deluge  of  sin,  when  men 
lived  six,  seven,  eight,  or  nine  hundred  years. 
Had  our  great  sensualists  any  hope  of  living  so 
long,  they  would  be  like  incarnate  devils;  there 
would  be  no  dwelling  near  them  for  the  godly. 
Nor  will  God  tire  us  with  too  long  a  life  of  af- 
ilictions.  And  shall  we  grudge  at  the  wisdom 
and  goodness  which  shortens  them?  Though  ho- 
ly duties  be  excellent  and  delightful,  yet  the  weak- 
0         "  6 


62  WHAT    IT    IS   TO    DEPART,  [Chap.   III. 

ness  of  the  flesh  makes  us  liable  to  weariness,  and 
abates  the  willingness  of  the  spirit.  By  our  wea- 
riness and  complaints,  our  fears  and  groans,  we 
seem  to  think  this  life  too  long;  and  yet  when 
we  should  yield  to  the  call  of  God,  we  draw  back 
as  if  we  would  have  it  to  be  everlasting. 

"  Willingly  submit,  then,  O  my  soul  !  It  is  not 
thyself,  but  this  flesh,  that  must  be  dissolved  ;  this 
troublesome,  vile,  and  corruptible  flesh.  Study 
thy  duty,  work  while  it  is  day,  and  let  God  choose 
thy  time ;  and  willingly  stand  to  his  disposal. 
When  I  die,  the  Gospel  dies  not — the  church  dies 
not — the  praises  of  God  die  not — the  world  dies 
not;  but  perhaps  it  will  grow  better,  and  those 
prayers  be  answered  which  seemed  to  be  lost; 
and  perhaps  some  of  the  seed  I  have  sown  will 
spring  up  when  I  am  dead.  If  my  end  was  to  60 
good,  and  glorify  God  ;  when  good  is  done,  and 
God  is  glorified,  though  I  were  annihilated,  is  not 
my  end  attained  ?"  "  Lord,  let  thy  servant  depart 
in  peace,"  even  in  thy  peace,  *'  which  passeth  all 
understanding,"  and  which  Christ,  the  Prince  of 
peace,  gives,  and  which  nothing  in  the  world  can 
take  away !  "  O  give  me  that  peace  which  suits 
a  soul  who  is  so  near  the  harbor,  even  the  world 
of  endless  peace  and  love  !  Call  home  this  soul 
by  the  encouraging  voice  of  love,  that  it  may  joy- 
fully hear,  and  say.  It  is  my  Father's  voice  !  Invite 
it  to  thee  by  the  heavenly  messenger!  Attract  it 
by  the  tokens  and  foretastes  of  love  !  The  mes- 
sengers that  invited  me  to  the  feast  of  grace,  com- 


Chap    III.]  AND    TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST.  63 

pelled  me  to  come  in  without  constraint;  thy  ef- 
fectual call  made  me  willing.  And  is  not  glory 
better  than  the  grace  which  prepares  for  it?  Shall 
I  not  more  willingly  come  to  the  celestial  feast? 
What  was  thy  grace  for,  but  to  make  me  desirous 
of  glory  and  the  way  to  it?  Why  didst  thou  dart 
down  thy  beams  of  love,  but  to  make  me  love 
thee,  to  call  me  up  to  the  everlasting  centre? 
Was  not  the  feast  of  grace  as  a  sacrament  of  the 
feast  of  glory?  Did  I  not  take  it  in  remembrance 
of  my  Lord  till  he  come?  Did  not  he  that  told 
me,  '  All  things  are  ready,'  tell  me  also,  that  '  He 
is  gone  to  prepare  a  place  for  us,  and  that  he 
will  have  us  to  be  with  him  and  see  his  glory?' 
They  that  are  given  him,  and  drawn  to  him,  by 
the  Father  on  earth,  do  come  to  Christ;  give  now, 
and  draw  my  departing  soul  to  my  glorified  Head  ! 
As  I  have  glorified  thee  on  earth  in  the  measure 
of  thy  grace  bestowed  upon  me,  pardon  the  sins 
by  vrhich  I  have  offended  thee,  and  glorify  me  in 
the  vision  and  participation  of  my  Redeemer's 
glory!  Come,  Lord  Jesus,  come  quickly,  with 
fuller  life,  and  light,  and  love,  into  this  too  dead, 
and  dark,  and  disaffected  soul,  that  with  joyful 
willingness  it  may  come  unto  thee  ! 

*'  Willingly  depart,  O  lingering  soul ! — it  is  from 
a  Sodom ;  though  there  be  righteous  Lots  in  it, 
they  are  not  without  their  sad  blemishes.  Hast 
thou  so  often  lamented  the  general  blindness  and 
wickedness  of  the  world,  and  art  thou  loath  to 
leave  it  for  a  better?     How   often  wouldest  thou 


64  WHAT    IT   IS   TO    DEPART,  [Chap.  Ill 

have  rejoiced  to  see  but  the  dawning  of  a  day  of 
universal  peace  and  reformation  !  And  wouldest 
thou  not  see  it,  where  it  shines  in  perfect  beauty? 
Hast  thou  prayed  and  labored  so  hard  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  a  light  at  midnight;  and  is  it  not  thy 
desire  to  behold  the  sun  itself?  Will  the  things 
of  heaven  please  thee  no  where  but  on  earth, 
where  they  are  least  and  weakest?  Away,  away! 
Vindictive  flames  are  ready  to  consume  this  sinful 
world.  Sinners  are  trea?iuring  up  wrath  against 
the  day  of  wrath.  Look  not  then  behind  thee. 
Away  from  this  unhappy  world!  '  Press  toward 
the  mark,  looking  for  and  hastening  unto  the 
coming  of  the  day  of  God.' — As  this  world  has 
used  thee,  so  it  would  still  do.  When  thou  hast 
fared  best  in  it,  no  thanks  to  it  but  to  God.  If 
thou  hast  had  manifold  deliverances  and  preser- 
vations, and  hast  been  fed  with  angels'  food,  love 
not  the  wilderness,  but  thy  heavenly  guide,  pro- 
tector, and  deliverer.  Does  God  in  his  great 
mercy  make  pain  and  feebleness  the  harbingers 
of  death,  and  wilt  thou  not  understand  their  busi- 
ness? Wouldest  thou  dwell  with  thy  beloved  bo- 
dy in  the  grave,  where  it  will  rot  in  loathsome 
darkness?  If  not,  why  should  it  now,  in  its  pain- 
ful languor,  seem  to  thee  a  more  pleasing  habita- 
tion than  the  glorious  presence  of  thy  Lord  ?  In  the 
grave  it  will  be  at  rest,  nor  at  the  night  wish,  O 
that  it  were  morning,  nor  in  the  morning  say 
When  will  it  be  night?  And  is  this  a  dwelling 
fit  for  thy  delight?    Patience  in  it,  while  God  will 


Chap.  III.J  AND   TO    BE    WITH   CHRIST.  65 

SO  try  thee,  is  thy  duty :  but  is  such  patience  a 
better  and  sweeter  life  than  rest  and  joy?" 

But,  alas!  how  deaf  is  flesh  to  reason!  I  have 
reason  enough  to  be  willing  to  depart,  even  much 
more  willing  than  I  am.  O  that  I  could  be  as 
willing  as  reason  convinces  me  I  ought  to  be ! 
Could  I  love  God  as  much  as  I  know  I  ought  to 
love  him,  then  I  should  desire  to  depart  and  to  be 
with  Christ  as  much  as  I  know  I  ought  to  desire 
it.  But  death  must  be  a  penalty,  even  where  it  is 
again;  and  therefore  it  must  meet  with  some 
unwillingness.  Because  we  willingly  sinned,  we 
must  unwillingly  suff*er.  All  the  faith  and  reason 
in  the  world  will  not  make  death  to  be  no  penalty, 
and  therefore  will  not  take  away  all  unwillingness. 
No  man  ever  reasoned  or  believed  himself  into  a 
love  of  pain  and  death,  as  such.  But  since  the 
gain  is  unspeakably  greater  than  the  pain  and 
loss,  therefore  faith  and  holy  reason  may  make 
our  willingness  greater  than  our  unwillingness, 
and  our  hope  and  joy  than  our  fear  and  sorrow. 
"  Come  then,  my  soul,  and  think  believingly  what 
is  best  for  thee,  (which  will  be  the  subject  of  the 
next  chapter,)  and  wilt  thou  not  love  and  desire 
that  most  which  is  certainly  best?" 


6* 


66  WHY    IT   IS   FAR    BETTER  [Chap.   IV. 

CKAFTER    IV. 

JVhy  it  is  far  better  to  be  with  Christ, 

To  say  or  hear  that  it  is  far  better  to  be  with 
Christ,  is  not  enough  to  make  us  willing.  If  I 
firmly  believe  that  it  is  best  for  me,  I  shall  then 
desire  it.  And  have  I  not  reason  to  believe  it? 
Let  me  seriously  consider,  for  my  full  conviction 
— by  what  means  I  am  preparing  for  this  happi- 
ness— how  this  happiness  is  the  end  for  whicli  I 
am  preparing — and  how  it  will  perfect  my  know- 
ledge, will,  and  activity  in  doing  good. 

1.  The  means  by  which  I  am  preparing  to  be 
with  Christ,  abundantly  show  that  it  is  far  better 
to  be  with  him.  As  for  instance,  that  is  best  for 
me  which  my  heavenly  Father's  love  dccigns  and 
chooses  for  my  good.  I  hope  I  shall  never  dare 
to  say  or  think  that  he  is  mistaken,  or  that  I  could 
have  chosen  better  for  myself.  Many  a  time  hatli 
the  wise  and  good  will  of  God  crossed  my  foolish 
rebellious  will,  and  afterward  I  have  perceived  it 
was  best.  It  is  not  an  enemy  nor  a  tyrant  that 
made  me,  preserves  me,  or  calls  me  hence.  The 
more  I  have  tried  him,  the  better  I  have  found  him. 
Had  I  better  obe3^ed  his  ruling  will,  how  happy 
had  I  been!  And  is  not  his  disposing  and  reward- 
ing will  as  good?  Should  I  not  die  till  myself  or 
any  of  my  dearest  friends  would  have  it,  would 
this  rejoice  me?    O  foolish,  sinful!  soul,  is  it  not 


Chap.  IV.]  TO    BE   WITH   CHRIST.  67 

far  better  io  be  at  God's  choice  than  my  own  or 
any  man's  "  Be  of  good  cheer  then,  O  my  soul ! 
it  is  thy  Father's  voice  that  calls  thee  hence — his 
voice  that  called  thee  into  being,  and  out  of  a  state 
of  sin  and  death,  and  bade  thee  live  unto  him — that 
called  thee  so  often  from  the  grave,  forgave  thy 
sins,  renewed  thy  strength,  restored  thee  to  the 
comforts  of  his  house  and  service,  and  hath  so 
graciously  led  thee  through  this  howling  wilder- 
ness almost  to  the  sight  of  the  promised  land. 
And  wilt  thou  not  willingly  go  when  such  infinite 
love  calls  thee  ?  Art  thou  not  desirous  of  his  pre- 
sence ?  Art  thou  afraid  to  go  to  him  who  is  the 
only  cure  of  thy  fears  ?  What  was  it  but  this  glo- 
ry to  which  he  elected  thee  ? — not  to  the  riches 
and  honors  of  this  world,  or  to  the  pleasures  of 
the  flesh,  but  chose  thee  in  Christ  to  an  inheritance 
in  glory?  If  God  chose  thee  to  blessedness,  refuse 
it  not  thyself,  nor  behave  like  a  refuser."  That  is 
my  best  state  which  my  Savior  purchased,  and 
promised  as  best.  As  he  bought  me  not  with  sil- 
ver and  gold,  so  neither  did  he  live  and  die  to 
make  me  rich  and  great  in  the  world.  Who  have 
more  of  these  than  they  that  have  least  of  Christ? 
Is  it  heaven  that  cost  so  dear  a  price  as  his  me- 
rits, sacrifice,  and  intercession?  Is  that  the  end 
of  so  wonderful  a  design  of  grace,  and  shall  I  now 
be  unwilling  to  receive  the  gift?  That  is  best  for 
me,  for  which  God's  holy  Spirit  is  preparing  me. 
He  is  not  persuading  me  from  day  to  day  to  love 
the  world,  but  to  come  off  from  it,  and  to  set  my 


68  WHY    IT    IS    FAR    BETTER  [Chap.  IV. 

heart  upon  things  above.  And  would  I  now  undo 
all,  or  cross  and  frustrate  all  his  operations?  Has 
grace  been  so  long  preparing  me  for  glory,  and 
shall  I  be  loath  to  take  possession  of  it?  If  I  am 
not  willing,  I  am  not  yet  sufficiently  prepared. 

If  heaven  be  not  b-etter  for  me  than  earth,  God's 
word  and  ordinances  have  been  all  in  vain.  Sure- 
ly that  is  my  best,  which  is  the  gift  of  the  better 
covenant;  which  is  secured  to  me  by  so  many 
sealed  promises  ;  to  which  I  am  directed  by  so 
many  sacred  precepts,  doctrines,  and  examples  ; 
and  for  which  I  have  been  called  to  hear  and  read, 
meditate,  watch,  and  pray.  Was  it  fleshly  inte- 
rest or  a  longer  life  of  worldly  prosperity  which 
the  gaspel  covenant  secured  to  me,  which  the  sa- 
craments and  Spirit  sealed  to  me,  which  the  Bible 
was  written  to  direct  me  to,  which  ministers 
preached  to  me,  which  my  books  were  written 
for,  and  for  which  I  prayed  and  served  God  ?  Or 
was  it  not  for  his  grace  on  earth  and  glory  in  hea- 
ven ?  And  is  it  not  better  for  me  to  have  the  end 
of  these  means,  than  lose  them  and  my  hopes? 
Wliy  have  I  used  them,  if  I  would  not  attain  their 
end?  That  is  my  best  state  to  which  all  God's 
fatherly  providences  tend.  All  his  sweeter  mer- 
cies and  sharper  corrections  are  to  make  me  par- 
taker of  his  holiness,  and  lead  me  to  glory  in  the 
way  in  which  my  Savior  and  all  his  saints  have 
gone  before  me.  All  things  work  together  for  the 
b*;st  to  me,  by  preparing  me  for  that  which  is  best 
•'vjdced.     Both  calms  and  storms  are  to  bring  me 


;V' 


Chap.  IV.]  TO    BE    WITH   CHRIST.  69 

to  this  harbor;  if  I  take  them  but  for  themselves 
and  for  this  present  life,  I  mistake  them,  unthank- 
fully  vilify  them,  and  lose  their  end,  life,  and 
sweetness.  Every  word  and  work  of  God,  every 
day's  mercies  and  changes  look  at  heaven  and  in- 
tend eternity.  God  leads  me  no  other  way ;  if  I 
follow  him  not,  I  forsake  my  hope  in  forsaking 
him  ;  if  I  follow  him,  shall  I  be  unwilling  to  be 
at  home  and  arrive  at  the  end  of  all  this  way? 

Certainly  that  is  best  for  me  which  God  requires 
me  principally  to  value,  love,  and  seek.  If  my 
business  in  the  world  be  only  for  the  things  of  the 
world,  how  vain  a  creature  is  man,  and  how  little 
is  the  difference  between  waking  and  sleeping,  life 
and  death !  And  is  it  my  duty  to  seek  heaven  with 
all  the  fervor  of  my  soul  and  diligence  of  my  life, 
and  is  it  not  best  to  find  itl — That  must  needs  be 
best  for  me,  for  the  sake  of  which  all  other  things 
must  be  forsook.  It  is  folly  to  forsake  the  better 
for  the  worse ;  but  Scripture,  reason  and  con- 
science tell  me  that  all  this  world  should  be  for- 
saken for  the  least  hope  of  heaven,  when  it  comes 
in  competition.  A  possible  everlasting  glory  should 
be  preferred  before  a  certainly  perishing  vanity. 
I  am  sure  this  life  will  shortly  be  nothing  to  me, 
and  therefore  it  is  nothing  now.  And  must  I  for- 
sake all  for  my  everlasting  hopes,  and  yet  be  un- 
willing to  enter  on  the  full  possession  ?  That  is 
like  to  be  our  best  which  is  our  most  mature  state. 
Nature  is  ever  tending  toward  perfection.  Every 
fruit  is  best  when  it  is  ripe.     And  does  God  cause 


70  WHY    IT   IS    FAR    BETTER  [Chap.  IV 

saints  to  grow  to  greater  ripeness  only  to  be  use- 
less? It  is  not  credible.  "Our  souls  return  to 
God  that  gave  them ;"  and  though  he  needs  them 
not,  he  puts  them  to  such  heavenly  uses  as  their 
maturity  fits  them  for.  Since  love  has  ripened  me 
for  itself,  shall  I  not  willingly  drop  into  its  hand? 
That  is  like  to  be  best  which  has  been  most  es- 
teemed and  desired  by  the  wisest  and  holiest  in  all 
ages,  and  which  all  men  at  death  allow  to  be  best. 
No  men  are  usually  worse  than  those  who  have  no 
belief  or  hope  of  a  life  to  come.  And  none  are 
so  holy,  just,  and  sober,  so  charitable  to  others, 
and  so  useful  to  mankind,  as  those  who  firmly  be- 
lieve and  hope  for  a  state  of  immortality.  And 
shall  I  fear  such  a  state  ? — And  is  not  that  my  best 
state  which  most  displeases  my  greatest  enemies? 
I  need  not  say  how  much  Satan  does  to  keep  me 
and  other  men  from  heaven  ;  and  in  order  to  that, 
how  he  tempts  us  with  worldly  honor,  pleasure, 
and  wealth.  Satan  would  not  have  me  get  to  hea- 
ven, and  shall  I  also  be  unwilling?  All  these  things 
tell  me  that  it  is  best  to  be  with  Christ. 

2.  As  the  end  of  all  my  preparation,  it  must  be 
far  better  for  me  to  be  with  Christ.  Is  not  dwell- 
ing with  God  in  glory  far  better  than  in  this  sinful 
world  ?  He  that  is  our  beginning  is  our  end. 
For  our  end  all  means  are  used  :  and  the  end  at- 
tained is  the  rest  of  souls.  How  often  has  my 
soul  groaned  under  a  sense  of  distance,  darkness, 
and  alienation  from  God  !  How  often  has  it  looked 
up  and  panted  after  him,  and  said,  "As  the  harl 


Chap.  IV.J  TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST.  *!\ 

panteth  after  the  water-brooks,  so  panteth  my  soul 
after  thee,  O  God.  My  soul  thirsteth  for  God,  for 
the  living  God  ;  when  shall  I  come  and  appear 
before  God?  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee? 
and  there  is  none  upon  earth  that  I  desire  beside 
thee.  It  is  good  for  me  to  draw  near  to  God." 
Wo  to  me  if  I  dissembled:  if  not,  why  should 
my  soul  draw  back  ?  Is  it  because  death  stands  in 
the  way?  And  is  not  my  passage  secured  by  the 
love  of  my  Father,  and  .the  resurrection  and  in- 
tercession of  my  Lord  ?  Can  I  see  the  light  of 
heavenly  glory  in  this  darksome  shell  and  womb 
of  flesh  ?  All  creatures  are  more  or  less  excellent 
and  glorious,  as  God  communicates  most  of  him- 
self to  them.  They  are  said  to  be  nearest  to  him 
that  have  the  noblest  natures.  Therefore  to  be  as 
near  as  my  nature  was  intended  to  approach,  is 
but  to  attain  the  end  and  perfection  of  ray  nature. 
As  I  am  now  under  the  government  of  his  officers 
on  earth,  so  I  expect  to  be  in  heaven.  If  the  law 
was  given  by  angels,  and  the  angel  of  God  was 
in  the  burning  bush,  and  the  angel  conducted  the 
people  through  the  wilderness,  and  yet  all  these 
things  are  ascribed  to  God  ;  much  more  near  and 
glorious  will  the  divine  government  be  in  heaven. 
Here  I  am  made,  ruled,  and  sanctified  for  the  good 
of  many,  as. above  my  own.  I  am  sure  I  must  be 
finally  for  my  glorified  Redeemer ;  and  that  he 
who  is  the  first  will  be  the  ultimate  cause.  In  this, 
respect  I  shall  be  as  near  to  him  as  comports  with 
the  rank  and  order  of  my  nature.     It  is  the  honor 


7'Z  WHY    IT   IS   FAK   BETTER  [Chup.  IV. 

of  a  servant  to  have  an  lionorable  master,  and  to 
be  aj)pointv°,d  to  the  most  honorable  work.  Ivly 
advancement  will  be  ultimately  for  God,  and  in 
such  services  as  are  suitable  to  my  spiritual  and 
heavenly  state.  Activity  will  be  my  perfection 
and  my  rest.  Though  now  I  know  not  fully  what 
service  I  must  do,  1  know  it  Avill  be  good,  and 
suitable  to  the  blessed  state  I  shall  be  in.  It  is 
not  all  the  use  and  work  of  my  soul  now  to  care 
for  my  body,  nor  will  it  be  hereafter.  Though  I 
shall  not  always  have  a  body,  I  shall  always  have 
a  God,  and  a  Savior,  and  a  world  of  fellow-crea- 
tures ;  and  when  I  shine  not  in  the  lantern,  nor  see 
as  in  a  glass,  I  shall  yet  see  face  to  face.  To  ful- 
fill God's  v/iil  here  would  be  the  fulfilling  of  my 
ov»^n.  I  am  sure  my  soul  shall  live,  and  that  it 
shall  live  to  God,  and  that  I  shall  fulfill  his  blessed 
will ;  and  so  far  as  I  am  pleased  in  doing  it,  it  will 
be  my  felicity.  The  soul's  regular  love  to  the 
body  illustrates  the  love  of  Christ  to  his  church, 
and  to  every  member.  Herein  my  Savior  excels 
me  in  powerful  faithful  love.  He  will  save  me 
better  from  pain  and  death  than  I  can  save  my 
body,  and  will  more  inseparably  hold  me  to  him- 
self. If  it  pleases  my  soul  to  dwell  in  such  a 
house  of  clay,  how  much  more  will  it  please  my 
glorified  Lord  to  dwell  with  his  glorified  body, 
the  church  triumphant,  and  to  bless  each  member 
of  it!  It  v/ould  be  a  kind  of  death  to  Christ  to 
be  separated  from  his  body.  And  will  he  take 
incoinparablv  greater  pleasure  in  me  for  ever  than 


TO    BE   WITH    CHRIST.  73 

my  soul  does  in  my  body  ?  O  then  let  me  long  to 
be  with  him  !  Though  I  am  naturally  loath  to  be 
absent  from  the  body,  let  me  not  be  willingly  ab- 
sent from  the  Lord  I  And  though  I  would  not  be 
unclothed,  had  not  sin  made  it  necessary,  let  me 
"  groan  to  be  clothed  upon  with  my  heavenly  habi- 
bitation,"  to  becom#  the  delight  of  my  Redeemer, 
and  to  be  perfectly  loved  by  love  itself!  The  love 
and  delight  of  my  glorified  Head  must  be  my  feli- 
city. I  shall  be  loved  as  a  living  spirit,  and  not  as 
a  thing  dead  and  insensible.  If  I  must  rejoice  here 
with  them  that  rejoice,  shall  I  not  rejoice  to  have 
my  Lord  rejoice  in  me  and  in  all  his  glorified 
ones  ?  Union  will  make  his  pleasure  to  be  much 
my  own.  It  will  fitly  be  said  by  him,  "  Enter  thou 
into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord,"  The  heavenly  society 
also  will  joyfully  welcome  a  holy  soul.  If  now 
"  there  is  joy  in  the  presence  of  the  angels  of  God 
over  one  sinner  that  repenteth,"  what  will  there 
be  over  a  perfect  glorified  soul?  If  our  '•  angels  " 
there  "  behold  our  Father's  face,"  how  glad  will 
they  be  of  our  company!  And  will  not  love  and 
union  make  their  joy  my  own  ?  Surely  that  will 
be  my  best  condition  which  angels  and  blessed 
spirits  will  be  best  pleased  with ;  and  in  that  in 
which  they  most  rejoice,  I  shall  most  rejoice 
myself. 

3.  It  is  far  better  for  me  to  be  with  Christ,  as 

thereby  my  knoioledge  ivili  he  perfected.     A  soul 

that  is  with  Christ  is  more  likely  to  know  Christ 

and  the  Father  in  him,  than  a  soul  that  is  present 

D  7 


74  WHV    If    rs   f AR    BETTER  [Chap.  IV, 

with  the  body  and  absent  from  the  Lord.  What 
less  can  promise  of  being  with  him  signify  ^  How 
much  more  excellent  will  intuitive  or  immediate 
knowledge  be,  than  our  present  artificial  know- 
ledge? There  will  be  no  expensive  labor  in  get- 
ting it.  It  will  have  nto  mixture  of  dark  and  be- 
wildering uncertainty  and  ambiguity  when  it  is 
acquired.  It  will  be  perfectly  free  from  those 
contentions  which  so  much  rob  the  ingenious  of 
iheir  time,  destroy  their  love,  hinder  their  minds 
from  ascending  to  God  and  heavenly  things,  and 
fill  the  church  with  sects  and  parties.  Nor  will  it 
leave  any  of  that  dissatisfaction  so  common  among 
the  learned,  while  they  have  only  the  shadow  of 
knowledge,  licking  but  the  outside  of  the  glass, 
and  leaving  the  wine  within  untasted.  What  an 
excellency  will  there  be  in  each  of  the  objects  of 
this  immediate  knowledge !  As  for  instance,  I 
shall  know  God  better.  If  an  angel  from  heaven 
came  down  on  earth  to  tell  us  all  of  God  that  we 
•would  know,  Avho  would  not  turn  his  back  on  li- 
braries and  universities,  to  go  and  discourse  with 
such  a  messenger?  For  one  hour's  talk  with  him 
what  travel  should  I  think  too  far,  what  cost  too 
great  ?  But  here  we  must  only  have  such  intima- 
tions as  will  exercise  faith,  excite  desire,  and  try 
us  under  the  temptations  of  the  world  and  the  flesh. 
The  light  of  glory  is  to  reward  the  victory  ob- 
tained by  the  conduct  of  the  light  of  grace.  God 
in  great  mercy  even  here  begins  the  reward. 
They  that  ••  follow  on  to  know  the  Lord,"  usually 


Chap.  IV.]  TO    BE    WITH   CHRIST.  75 

find  such  increase  of  light,  not  consisting  in  vain 
notions,  but  in  the  quickening  and  comforting 
knowledge  of  God,  as  greatly  encourages  them, 
and  draws  them  still  on  to  seek  more.  If  the 
pleasure  the  mind  has  in  common  knowledge 
makes  men  spend  successive  years  in  traversing 
sea  and  land,  or  in  turning  over  multitudes  of  te- 
dious volumes ;  who  then  upon  earth  can  possibly 
conceive  how  great  a  pleasure  it  will  be  for  a  glo- 
rified soul  to  see  the  Lord  ?  All  the  pleasure  I 
shall  have  in  heaven  in  knowing  any  of  the  works 
of  God,  will  be  in  my  beholding  God  himself,  his 
being,  wisdom,  love,  and  goodness,  in  those  works ; 
for  he  is  the  life  and  glory  of  them  all.  *'  Blessed 
are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  God." 
And  doubtless  it  will  be  no  small  part  of  my  de- 
light to  know  the  universe  better.  It  is  exceed- 
ingly  pleasant  to  know  the  least  particle  of  the 
works  of  God.  With  what  diligence  and  delight 
have  men  endeavored  to  anatomize  a  body,  yea,  a 
small  part  of  a  carcass,  for  to  know  and  describe 
worms  and  insects,  plants  and  minerals !  But  no 
man  ever  yet  perfect!}''  knew  the  nature  and  uses 
of  the  least  of  them.  If,  indeed,  we  clearly  saw 
the  nature  and  connection  of  every  creature  in  sea 
or  land,  what  a  delightful  spectacle  would  this 
spot  of  the  creation  be  !  How  much  more  to  see 
the  whole  creation!  And  I  shall  have  as  much 
of  this  as  I  shall  be  capable  of;  the  wonders  of 
God's  works  shall  raise  my  soul  in  admiring  joy- 
ful praise  for  ever.     We  have  desires  after  such 


7G  WHY    IT    IS    TAR    RCTTER  [Chap.  IV- 

Icnowledge  in  our  present  dark  and  infant  state, 
for  "  the  works  of  the  Lord  are  great,  sought  out 
of  all  them  that  have  pleasure  therein."  As  these 
desires  are  of  God,  as  he  hath  made  his  works  to 
be  known  for  his  glory,  and  as  it  is  little  that  is 
known  of  them  by  mortals,  therefore  they  are 
known  by  them  in  heaven,  who  are  fitted  to  im- 
prove that  knowledge  to  his  praise.  If  Christ,  the 
wisdom  of  God  will  teach  me  the  true  philosophy 
how  to  love  God  and  please  him  in  all  things  here, 
I  shall  quickly  in  heaven  be  a  perfect  philosopher. 
Satan  tempted  Christ  by  "  showing  him  all  the 
kingdoms  of  the  world,  and  the  glory  of  them," 
promising  to  "  give  him  all  if  he  would  wor- 
ship him;"  but  God  will  show  me  more  than  Satan 
could  show,  and  give  me  more  of  that  which  is  best, 
than  Satan  could  give. 

Nor  will  it  be  the  least  of  my  felicity  in  heaven, 
that  I  shall  better  know  Jesus  Christ,  and  all  the 
mystery  of  our  redemption  by  him.  O  beatifying 
knowledge !  to  know  him,  "  in  whom  are  hid  all 
the  treasures  of  wisdom  and  knowledge!''  To 
knoAv  the  mystery  of  his  eternal  Godhead,  of  his 
created  nature,  and  of  the  union  of  both,  and  to 
see  God's  wonderful  design  and  gracious  work, 
in  him,  laid  open  to  our  clearest  view  !  Then  all 
the  dark  texts  concerning  his  person,  offices,  and 
works,  will  be  fully  understood.  All  those  strange 
and  difficult  things  which  were  the  great  exercise 
and  honor  of  faith,  will  then  be  plain.  Difficulties 
will   no  more   be  Satan's   advantage,  to  tempt   us 


Chap.  IV.]  TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST.  77 

to  unbelief  or  doubting.  The  sight  of  the  glory 
of  my  Lord  will  be  my  glory.  If  now,  '*  though 
we  see  not  Christ,  yet  believing,  we  love  him,  and 
rejoice  in  him  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of 
glory;"  what  love  and  joy  will  the  everlasting 
sight  of  our  blessed  Head  excite  there  in  the  souls 
of  all  the  glorified  !  I  shall  better  (O  how  much 
better!)  "  know  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  the  tri- 
umphant Church,  the  blessed  angels  and  glorified 
saints."  What  a  sight,  what  a  joyful  sight  will 
death  show  me,  by  drawing  aside  the  vail !  or  ra- 
ther the  Lord  of  life,  by  turning  death  to  my  ad- 
vantage !  As  I  now  know  the  several  rooms  in 
my  house,  so  shall  I  then  know  the  "  many  man- 
sions "  which,  Christ  says,  "  are  in  his  Father's 
house."  If  Nehemiah  and  the  pious  Jews  rejoiced 
so  much  at  seeing  the  walls  of  Jerusalem  repaired, 
and  others  at  the  rebuilding  the  temple,  O  what 
a  joyful  sight  shall  I  have  of  the  heavenly  Jeru- 
salem !  I  know  that  angels  now  love  us,  minister 
unto  us,  rejoice  in  our  good,  and  are  themselves 
far  more  holy  and  excellent  creatures  than  we 
are ;  it  is  therefore  my  comfort  to  think  that  I 
shall  better  know  them,  and  live  in  near  and  per- 
petual acquaintance  and  communion  with  them, 
and  bear  my  part  in  the  same  choir  in  which  they 
preside.  And  when  I  think  how  sweet  one  wise 
and  holy  companion  has  been  to  me  here  on  earth, 
and  how  lovely  his  graces  have  appeared ;  O  what 
a  sight  will  it  be,  when  we  shall  see  the  millions 
of  "  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect,"   shining 


78  WHY    IT    IS    FAR    BETTER  [Ciiap.  IV. 

with  Christ  in  perfect  wisdom  and  holiness !  It 
this  world  was  full  of  wise,  just,  and  holy  persons, 
how  lovely  would  it  be!  If  one  king^dom  consist- 
ed of  such,  it  would  make  us  loath  to  die  and 
leave  such  a  country,  were  it  not  that  the  more 
the  beauty  of  goodness  appears,  the  more  the  per- 
fection of  it  is  desired  It  is  pleasant  to  me  to 
pray  in  hope  that  earth  may  be  made  more  like 
heaven,  which  is  now  become  so  like  hell :  but 
when  I  shall  see  the  society  perfected  in  number, 
holiness,  and  glory,  employed  in  the  high  and 
joyful  praises  of  Jehovah, — the  glory  of  God  and 
the  Lamb  shining  on  them,  and  God  rejoicing 
over  them  as  his  delight,  and  myself  partaking  of 
the  same — that  will  be  the  truly  blessed  day.  And 
why  does  my  soul,  imprisoned  in  flesh,  no  more 
desire  it? — I  shall  better  understand  all  the  word 
of  God.  Though  I  shall  not  have  the  use  for  it  I 
now  have  in  this  life  of  faith,  yet  I  shall  see  more 
of  God's  wisdom  and  goodness,  love,  mercy,  and 
justice  appearing  in  it,  than  ever  man  on  earth 
could  do.  As  the  creatures,  so  the  Scriptures 
are  perfectly  known  only  by  perfect  spirits.  I 
shall  then  know  how  to  solve  all  doubts,  reconcile 
all  seeming  contradictions,  and  expound  the  hard- 
est prophecies.  That  light  will  show  me  the  ad- 
mirable method  of  those  sacred  words  where  dark 
minds  now  suspect  confusion.  How  joyfully  shall  I 
then  praise  my  God  and  Savior  for  giving  his  church 
so  clear  a  light  to  guide  them  through  this  dark- 
some wilderness,   and  so   sure  a  promise   to  sup- 


Chap.   IV.]  TO    BE    WITH  CHRIST.  79 

port  them  till  they  are  come  to  life  eternal !  How 
joyfully  shall  I  bless  him,  who,  by  that  immortal 
seed,  regenerated  me  to  the  hope  of  glory,  and 
ruled  me  by  so  holy  and  just  a  law  ! 

In  that  world  of  light  I  shall  better  understand 
God's  works  of  providence.  The  wisdom  and 
good  of  them  is  little  understood  in  small  par- 
cels. It  is  the  union  and  harmony  of  all  the  parts 
which  displays  the  beauty  of  them.  And  no  one 
can  see  the  whole  together  but  God,  and  they  that 
see  it  in  the  light  of  his  celestial  glory.  Then  I 
shall  clearly  know  why  God  prospered  the  wicked, 
and  so  much  afflicted  the  righteous;  why  he  set 
up  the  ungodly,  and  put  the  humble  under  their 
feet ;  why  he  permitted  so  much  ignorance,  pride, 
lust,  oppression,  persecution,  falsehood,  and  other 
pins  in  the  world ;  why  the  faithful  are  so  few  ; 
and  why  so  many  kingdoms  of  the  world  are  left 
in  heathenism,  Mahomelanism,  and  infidelity.  I 
shall  know  why  I  suffered  what  I  did,  and  how 
many  great  deliverances  I  had,  and  how  they  were 
accomplished.  All  our  misinterpretations  of  God's 
works  and  permissions  will  then  be  rectified,  and 
all  our  controversies  about  them  be  at  an  end. 
Among  all  these  works  I  shall  especially  know 
more  of  the  nature  and  excellency  of  God's  mer- 
cies. The  lively  sense  of  love  and  mercy  makes 
lively  Christians  abound  in  love  to  God,  and  in 
mercy  to  others ;  but  the  enemy  of  God  and  man 
labors  to  obscure  and  diminish  our  views  of  di- 
vine love  and  mercy.     Ingratitude  is  great  misery, 


80  WHY    IT    IS  FAR    BETTER.  [Chap.  IV. 

as  gratitude  is  true  pleasure.  We  now  receive 
thousands  of  mercies  which  we  undervalue.  But 
when  I  come  to  the  state  and  work  of  perfect  gra- 
titude, I  shall  perfectly  know  all  the  mercies  ever 
received  by  myself,  by  my  neighbors  and  friends, 
by  the  church,  and  the  world.  Mercies  remem- 
bered must  be  the  matter  of  our  everlasting  thanks, 
and  we  cannot  be  perfectly  thankful  for  them 
without  a  perfect  knowledge  of  them.  The  worth 
of  Christ  and  all  his  grace  of  the  Gospel,  and  of 
all  divine  ordinances  and  church  privileges,  of  our 
books  and  our  friends,  our  health,  and  all  the  con- 
veniences of  our  lives,  will  be  better  understood 
in  heaven  than  the  most  holy  and  thankful  Ohri.s- 
tian  ever  understood  them  here.  Then  sliall  I  be 
much  better  acquainted  with  myself.  I  shall  know 
the  nature  of  souls  and  the  way  of  their  operations, 
and  how  the  Spirit  of  God  works  upon  them,  and 
how  that  Spirit  is  sent  from  Christ  to  work  upon 
them.  I  shall  know  what  measure  of  grace  I  my- 
self had,  and  how  far  I  was  mistaken  concerning 
it.  I  shall  know  more  of  the  number  and  great- 
ness of  my  sins,  and  of  my  obligation  to  pardon- 
ing and  healing  grace.  Yes,  I  shall  know  more 
of  my  body  as  the  habitation  of  my  soul,  and  how 
far  it  helped  or  hindered  me,  and  what  were  all 
its  diseases,  and  how  wonderfully  God  supported, 
preserved,  and  often  delivered  me.  I  shall  also 
far  better  know  my  fellow-creatures.  The  good 
and  bad,  the  sincere  and  hypocrites,  will  there  be 
discerned.     Actions  that  were   here  thought  hon* 


Chap.  IV.]  TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST.  81 

orable,  will  then  be  found  to  be  odious  and  unjust; 
and  wickedness  will  no  more  be  flattered  or  ex- 
tenuated. Many  a  good  and  holy  work  which 
\vas  reproached  as  criminal,  will  there  be  justified, 
honored  and  rewarded.  Once  more,  I  shall  bet- 
ter know  from  what  enemies,  sins  and  dangers  I 
was  here  delivered;  what  stratagems  of  Satan,  and 
his  instruments  God  defeated;  how  many  snares 
I  escaped;  and  how  great  is  my  deliverance  by 
Christ  from  the  wrath  to  come.  All  this  know- 
ledge will  thus  be  advanced  to  my  glorified  soul, 
beyond  my  present  conceptions ;  and  is  it  not  there- 
fore far  better  to  be  with  Christ  ? 

4.  It  is  far  better  for  me  to  be  with  Christ,  for 
the  sake  of  having  my  will  perfected.  The  will 
is  to  the  soul  what  the  heart  is  to  the  body.  My 
greatest  evil  is  there,  and  there  will  be  my  greatest 
good.  Satan  did  most  against  it,  and  God  will 
do  most  for  it.  When  I  am  with  Christ  my  will 
no  more  will  be  tied  to  a  body,  which  is  now  the 
grand  snare  and  enemy  of  my  soul,  by  drawing  my 
love  and  care,  my  fears  and  sorrows,  to  itself,  and 
turning  them  from  my  highest  interest.  There 
my  will  shall  not  be  tempted  by  a  world  of  infe- 
rior good  !  nor  shall  meat  and  sleep,  possessions 
and  friends,  be  my  snares  and  dangers ;  nor  shall 
the  mercies  of  God  be  the  tempter's  instruments  ; 
nor  shall  I  have  the  flatteries  or  frowns  of  tyrants ; 
nor  will  bad  company  infect  or  divert  me ;  nor  the 
errors  of  good  men  seduce  me ;  nor  the  reputation 
of  the  wise  and  learned  draw  me  to  imitate  them 


82  WHY     IT    19     FAR    BETTER  Chap.  IV.] 

in  any  sin.  There  will  be  none  of  Satan's  solici- 
tations to  pervert  my  will. 

My  will  shall  there  be  better  than  here,  as  it 
shall  have  nothing  in  it  displeasing  to  God — no 
sinful  inclination,  no  striving  against  God's  Spirit, 
no  grudging  at  any  word  or  work  of  God,  nor 
any  principle  of  enmity  or  rebellion  left.  There 
it  shall  have  no  inclination  to  injure  my  neighbor, 
or  to  do  any  thing  against  the  common  good ;  and 
there  it  shall  have  nothing  in  it  opposite  to  itself; 
no  more  "law  of  my  members  warring  against 
the  law  of  my  mind ;"  no  more  contrariety  be- 
tween sense  and  reason ;  but  all  will  be  unity  and 
peace  within. 

There  Christ  will  have  perfectly  sanctified  my 
will,  and  made  it  conformable  to  his  own,  and  to 
his  Father's  will.  This  is  at  least  his  meaning, 
when  he  prays,  "  that  all  his  disciples  may  be 
one,  as  thou,  Father,  art  in  me,  and  I  in  thee, 
that  they  also  may  be  one  in  us,  that  they  may 
be  one,  even  as  we  are  one."  I  shall  love  and  will 
the  same  that  God  loves  and  wills.  And  how  can 
the  will  of  man  have  greater  honor  ?  Assimilation 
to  an  earthly  king  is  honorable ;  but  much  more  to 
angels ;  but  most  of  all  to  be  like  God.  Indeed, 
here  the  divine  image  in  us,  is,  in  its  degrees,  a  con- 
formity to  the  will  of  God.  But,  alas,  how  many 
thousand  wishes  and  desires  have  we  had  which 
are  against  the  will  of  God  !  We  shall  have  the 
full  impression  of  God's  will  in  heaven,  as  face 
answers  to  face  in  a  glass,  or  the  wax  to  the  seal, 


Chap.  IV.  ]  TO    BE   WITH   CHRIST.  83 

or  the  finger  of  the  clock  to  the  motion  within, 
or  as  the  echo  to  the  voice.  I  shall  desire  and 
never  be  disappointed.  I  shall  have  as  much  love 
and  joy  as  I  wish.  Before  I  desire  any  thing,  I 
shall  know  whether  it  be  God's  will  or  not,  and 
therefore  shall  never  wish  any  thing  that  shall 
not  be  accomplished.  Yea,  my  will  shall  be  my 
enjoyment ;  for  it  shall  not  be  the  desire  of  what 
I  want,  but  a  complacency  in  what  I  possess.  I 
shall  want  nothing.  I  shall  thirst  no  more.  Rightly 
is  the  will  itself  called  love.  My  will  shall  be  full 
of  perfect  joy,  when  enjoying  love  and  pleasure 
will  be  my  will.  Thus  shall  I  have  within  myself 
a  spring  of  living  waters.  My  will  shall  be  con- 
firmed and  fixed  in  this  conformity  to  the  will  of 
God.  Now,  both  understanding  and  will  are  so 
lamentably  mutable,  that,  farther  than  God  pro- 
mises to  uphold  us,  Ave  know  not  one  day  what 
we  shall  think,  judge,  or  will  the  next.  But  when 
love  becomes  our  fixed  nature,  we  shall  be  no 
more  weary  of  loving,  than  the  sun  of  shining. 
God  himself  will  be  the  full  and  everlasting  object 
of  my  love.  Perfect  joyful  complacency  in  God 
is  the  heaven  which  I  desire  and  hope  for.  In 
God  there  is  all  that  love  can  desire  for  its  full 
everlasting  feast.  The  nature  of  man's  will  is  to 
love  good,  as  good.  God,  who  is  infinitely  good 
in  himself,  will  be  that  most  suitable  good  to  me. 
He  has  all  in  himself  that  I  need  or  can  desire. 
There  is  nothing  for  love  to  cleave  to,  either 
above  him,  beyond  him,  or  without  him.     He  is 


S4  WHY    IT    IS    TAR    BETTER.  [Chop.   IV. 

willing  to  be  beloved  by  me.  He  disdains  not  my 
love.  He  might  have  refused  such  affections  as 
have  so  often  embraced  vanity  and  filth.  But 
he  commands  my  love,  and  makes  it  my  greatest 
duty.  He  invites  and  entreats  me,  as  if  he  were 
a  gainer  by  my  happiness.  He  seeks  to  me  to 
seek  to  him,  and  is  both  the  first  and  most  earnest 
suitor.  He  that  so  valued  my  cold  imperfect  love 
to  him  on  earth,  will  not  reject  my  perfect  love 
in  heaven.  And  he  is  near  to  me,  not  a  distant 
God  out  of  my  reach,  nor  unsuitable  to  my  love. 
Blind  unbelievers  may  dream  that  he  is  far  ofl"; 
but  even  now  he  is  as  nigh  to  us  as  we  are  to 
ourselves.  When  he  would  sanctify  us  to  love 
him,  he  brings  us  nigh  to  himself  in  Christ.  Here 
we  see  him  in  his  works  and  word ;  and  there  Ave 
shall  see  him  in  all  the  perfect  glory  of  his  works, 
and  shall  delightfully  love  that  glorious  perfection 
of  the  universe,  even  the  image  of  God  in  all  the 
world.  I  shall  especially  love  the  holy  society, 
the  triumphant  universal  church,  consisting  of 
Christ,  angels,  and  saints.  God  himself  loves 
them  more  than  his  inferior  works,  and  my  love, 
according  to  its  measure,  will  imitate  his. 

"  Think  here,  O  my  soul,  how  sweet  thy  con- 
dition will  be,  to  love  the  Lord  Jesus,  thy  glorified 
head,  with  perfect  love  I  When  the  glory  of  God, 
which  shines  in  him,  will  feast  thy  love  with  full 
and  everlasting  pleasure !  The  highest  created 
perfection  of  power,  wisdom,  and  goodness,  re- 
fulgent in  him,  will   not  permit  thy  love  to  cease 


Chap.  IV.]  TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST.  85 

or  abate  its  fervor.  When  thou  shalt  see  in  the 
glorified  church  the  precious  fruits  of  Christ's  re- 
deeming grace  and  love ;  and  when  thou  shalt  see 
thyself  possest  of  perfect  happiness  by  his  love 
to  thee,  and  shalt  remember  vi'hat  he  did  for  thee, 
and  in  thee,  here  on  earth ;  how  he  *  called  thee 
with  a  holy  calling ;'  how  he  '  washed  thee  in 
his  blood  from  all  thy  sins ;'  how  he  kindled  in 
thee  desires  after  glory ;  how  he  renewed  thy  na- 
ture ;  how  he  instructed,  guided,  and  preserved 
thee  from  sins,  enemies  and  sufferings ;  all  this 
will  constrain  thee  everlastingly  to  love  him. 
Think,  also,  O  my  soul,  how  delightful  it  will  be 
to  love  those  angels  who  most  fervently  love  the 
Lord !  They  will  be  lovely  to  thee,  as  they  have 
loved  thee;  and  more  as  they  have  been  lovers 
of  the  church  and  of  mankind ;  but  far  more  as 
they  are  so  many  refulgent  stars  which  continu- 
ally move,  and  shine,  and  burn,  in  perfect  love  to 
their  Creator.  O  blessed  difference  between  that 
amiable  society  and  this  dark,  distracted,  wicked 
world  !  There  I  shall  see  or  hear  no  evil,  no  mix- 
ture of  folly  or  pollution ;  no  false  doctrine ;  no 
bad  example;  no  favoring  wickedness;  no  ac- 
cusing goodness,  nor  hurtful  violence;  but  holy, 
powerful,  active  love  will  be  all,  and  do  all,  as 
their  very  nature,  life,  and  work.  And  is  not  a 
day  with  them  better  than  a  thousand  here  ?  And 
with  holy  angels  I  shall  also  love  holy  souls  that 
are  made  like  them,  and  joined  with  them  in  the 
same  society.     All  their  infirmities  are  there  put 

D.  8 


86  WHY    IT   18    FAR    BETTER  [Chttp.  IV. 

off,  and  they  also  are  spirits  made  up  of  holy  life, 
and  light,  and  love.  When  I  think  with  what 
fervent  love  to  God,  to  Jesus  Christ,  and  to  one 
another,  they  will  be  perfectly  united  there,  grieve 
and  blush,  0  my  soul,  that  they  should  be  here 
so  disaffected  and  divided.  The  imperfect  image 
of  God  upon  them  is  amiable,  but  through  their 
remaining  pride,  error,  and  uncharitableness,  it  is 
hard  to  live  with  some  of  them  in  peace.  O  how 
delightful  will  that  communion  of  saints  be  where 
perfect  love  shall  make  them  one  I  Forget  not, 
my  soul,  how  sweet  God  has  made  the  course  of 
my  pilgrimage  by  the  fragrance  and  usefulness  of 
his  servants'  graces  !  How  sweet  have  my  bosom 
friends  been !  How  sweet  the  neighborhood  of 
the  godly !  How  sweet  their  holy  assemblies, 
their  writings,  conference,  and  prayers  !  What 
then  will  it  be  to  live  in  perfect  love  with  perfect 
saints  in  heaven  for  ever,  and  with  them  perfectly 
to  love  the  God  of  love  !" 

As  the  act  and  object  of  love  will  constitute  my 
future  felicity,  I  shall  not  be  the  fountain  of  my 
own  delights,  but  my  receiving  from  the  love  of 
God  and  his  creatures  shall  be  sweeter  to  me  than 
my  o\trn  activity.  All  love  is  communicative,  but 
none  compared  with  God's.  Whatever  good  is 
done  in  the  woild  it  is  done  by  love.  Therefore 
parents  care  and  provide  for  children.  Therefore 
my  house  and  table  are  not  neglected,  nor  my 
books  and  learning  forgot,  nor  my  friends  des- 
pised, nor  my  life  itself  thrown  away.      If  a  man 


Chap.  IV.]  TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST.  87 

love  not  his  country,  posterity,  and  the  common 
good,  he  will  be  as  a  drone  in  the  hive.  And  if 
created  love  be  so  necessary,  so  active  and  com- 
municative, much  more  will  be  the  infinite  love  of 
the  Creator.  His  love  is  now  the  life  of  nature 
in  the  livino^,  the  life  of  holiness  in  the  saints,  and 
the  life  of  glory  in  them  that  are  glorified.  In 
this  love  I  and  all  the  saints  shall  dwell  for  ever- 
more. And  if  I  dwell  in  love,  and  love  in  me, 
surely  I  shall  "  ever  drink  of  the  rivers  of  plea- 
sure." Had  I  a  great,  wise,  and  good  friend,  that 
did  for  me  the  hundredth  part  of  what  God  does, 
how  dearly  should  I  love  him !  '♦  Think  then, 
think  believingly,  seriously,  constantly,  O  my 
soul,  what  a  life  thou  shalt  live  for  ever  in  the  pre- 
sence and  bosom  of  infinite  eternal  Love  !  He  now 
shineth  on  me  by  the  sun,  and  on  my  soul  by  the 
Sun  of  righteousness,  but  it  is  as  through  the  cre- 
vices of  my  darksome  habitation  ;  but  then  he  will 
shine  on  me,  and  in  me,  openly,  and  with  the  full- 
est streams  and  beams  of  love."  God  is  the  same 
God  in  heaven  as  on  earth,  but  I  shall  not  be  the 
same  man.  Here  the  windows  of  my  soul  are  not 
open  to  his  light ;  sin  has  raised  clouds,  and  con- 
sequently storms,  against  my  comforts.  The  en- 
trances to  my  soul  by  the  straits  of  flesh  and  sense 
are  narrow,  and  they  are  made  narrower  by  sin 
than  they  were  by  nature.  Alas,  how  often  would 
Love  have  spoken  comfortably  to  me,  and  I  was 
not  at  home  to  be  spoken  with,  but  abroad  among 
a  world  of  vanities :  or  was  not  at  leisure,  or  was 


88  WHY    IT    IS    FAR    BETTER  [Chap.  IV, 

asleep,  and  not  willing  to  be  awaked  !  How  of- 
ten would  Love  have  come  in  and  dwelt  with  me, 
and  I  have  unkindly  shut  him  out !  How  often 
would  he  have  freely  entertained  me  in  secret,  but 
I  had  some  trifling  company  or  business  that  I 
was  loath  to  leave !  When  his  table  has  been 
spread  for  me,  and  Christ,  grace,  and  glory  offered 
to  me,  how  has  my  appetite  been  gone,  or  dull ! 
He  would  have  been  all  to  me,  if  I  would  have 
been  all  for  him.  But  in  heaven  I  shall  have  none 
of  those  obstructions.  All  old  unkindness  and  in- 
gratitude will  be  forgiven.  I  shall  then  be  wholly 
separated  from  the  vanity  which  here  deceived  me. 
I  shall  joyfully  behold  the  open  face  and  attend 
the  charming  voice  of  glorifying  Love,  and  de- 
lightfully relish  his  celestial  provisions.  No 
disease  will  corrupt  my  appetite.  No  sluggishness 
will  renew  my  guilty  neglects.  "  The  love  of 
the  Father,  the  grace  of  the  Son,  and  the  com- 
munion of  the  Holy  Spirit"  will  triumph  over 
all  my  folly,  deadness,  and  disaffection ;  and  my 
God-displeasing  and  self-undoing  averseness  and 
enmity  will  be  gone  for  ever.  "  Study  this  hea- 
venly work  of  love,  O  my  soul !  These  are  not 
dead  or  barren  studies.  It  is  only  love  that  can 
relish  love  and  understand  it.  Here  the  will  has 
its  taste.  What  can  poor  carnal  worldlings  know 
of  glorious  love,  who  study  it  without  love  ?  What 
sounding  brass  or  tinkling  cymbals  are  they  that 
preach  of  God,  and  Christ,  and  heavenly  glory, 
without  love!     But  gazing  on. the  face  of  lovu  in 


Chap.  IV.)  TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST.  89 

Christ,  tasting  its  gifts,  contemplating  its  glorious 
reign,  is  the  way  to  kindle  the  sacred  fire  in 
thee.  The  burning-glass  must  be  turned  directly 
to  the  sun,  in  order  to  its  setting  any  thing  on 
fire.  A  holy  love,  like  that  in  heaven,  must  be 
studiously  fetched  from  heaven,  and  be  kindled 
by  the  forcsiglit  of  what  is  there,  and  what  we 
shall  be  there  for  ever.  Faith  must  ascend  and 
look  within  the  vail.  Thou,  my  soul,  must  not  live 
a  stranger  to  thy  home  and  hopes,  to  thy  God 
and  Savior.  The  fire  that  must  warm  thee  is  in 
heaven,  and  thou  must  come  near  it,  and  open 
thyself  to  its  influence,  if  thou  \vilt  feel  its  pow- 
erful efficacy.  It  is  night  and  winter  with  carnal 
minds,  when  it  is  day  and  summer  with  those 
that  set  their  faces  heavenward." 

But  in  heaven  God  will  make  use  of  second 
causes  even  in  communicating  his  love  and  glory. 
There  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  will  not  only  be  the 
object  of  our  delightful  love,  but  his  love  to  us 
will  be  as  the  vital  heat  and  motion  of  the  heart 
to  all  the  members,  the  root  of  our  life  and  joy. 
Did  his  tears  for  a  dead  Lazarus  make  men  say, 
"  Behold  how  he  loved  him  !"  What  then  will  the 
reviving  beams  of  heavenly  life  make  us  say  of 
that  love  which  fills  us  with  the  pleasures  of  his 
presence,  and  turns  our  souls  into  joy  itself? 
"  Believe,  O  my  soul,  thy  Savior's  love,  that  thou 
mayest  have  a  foretaste  of  it,  and  be  fit  for  com- 
plete enjoyment.  Let  thy  believing  be  so  much 
of  thy  daily  work,  that  thou  maye.st  say,  "he  dwells 


90  WHY    IT   IS    FAR    BETTER  [Chap.  IV. 

in  thy  heart  by  faith,"  and  "lives  in  thee,"  and 
that  thy  "  life  in  the  flesh  "  is  not  a  fleshly  life, 
but  ''  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God,  who  loved 
thee,  and  gave  himself  for  thee."  Look  upon  the 
sun,  and  think  with  thyself  how  its  motion,  light 
and  heat  are  communicated  to  millions  of  crea- 
tures all  over  the  earth  and  in  the  seas.  What  if 
all  these  beams  of  light  and  heat  were  proportion- 
able beams  of  perfect  knowledge,  love  and  joy  !  If 
all  the  creatures  under  the  sun  received  from  it  as 
much  wisdom,  love  and  joy,  as  they  have  of  light, 
heat  and  motion,  what  a  blessed  world  would  it 
be,  even  a  heaven  upon  earth !  Thus  will  the 
Sun  of  glory  send  forth  life,  light,  and  joyful  love 
on  all  the  heavenly  inhabitants.  Therefore  now 
begin  to  live  upon  the  influence  of  his  grace,  that 
thou  mayest  have  his  name  and  mark.  He  has 
not  bid  me  seek  his  grace  in  vain.  He  more  than 
bids  me  seek  and  ask.  He  teaches  me  to  pray. 
He  makes  my  prayers,  and  writes  them  on  my 
heart.  He  gives  me  desires,  and  he  loves  to  have 
me  importunate  with  him,  and  is  displeased  with 
me  that  I  will  ask  and  have  no  more.  How  then 
comes  my  soul  to  be  yet  so  fond  of  this  wretched 
flesh  and  world,  and  so  backward  to  go  home  and 
dwell  with  Christ  ?  Alas  !  a  taste  of  heaven  on 
earth  is  too  precious  to  be  cast  away  upon  such  as 
have  long  grieved  and  quenched  the  Spirit,  and 
are  not,  by  diligent  and  patient  seeking,  prepared 
to  receive  it.  My  conscience  remembers  the  fol- 
lies of  my  youth,  and  many  a  later  odious  sin,  and 


Chap.  IV.]  TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST.  91 

tells  me,  that  if  heaven  were  quite  hid  from  my 
sight,  and  I  should  never  have  a  glimpse  of  the 
face  of  glorious  eternal  Love,  it  would  be  just.     I 
look  upward  from  day  to  day,  and,  better  to  know 
my  God  and  my  home,  I  cry  to    him  daily,  "  My 
God,  my  hopes  are  better  than  all  the  possessions 
of  this  world ;  far  better  than  all  the  pleasures  ot 
sin  !     Thy  gracious  looks  have  often  revived  me, 
and  thy  mercies    have  been  unmeasurable  to  my 
soul  and  body.     But  O  how    far   am    I  short  of 
what,  even  forty  years  ago,  I  hoped  sooner  to  have 
attained  !     Where  is    "  the  peace  that  passeth  all 
understanding,"  which  should  keep  my  heart  and 
mind  "  through  Christ  Jesus  ?"     Where  is  the  see- 
ing, longing,  and  rejoicing  faith?     Where  is  that 
pleasant  familiarity   with    Christ   in  heaven,    that 
would  make  a  thought  of  them  sweeter  than  the 
thoughts  of  friends,  heahh,  or  all   the   prosperity 
and  pleasure  of  this  world  1    Do  those  that  "  dwell 
in  God,  and  God  in  them,"  and  have  their  "  hearts 
and    conversations  in  heaven,"    attain     no    more 
clear   and    satisfactory  perceptions   of  that  blessed 
state  than  I   have  yet  attained  ?     Is  there  no  live- 
lier sense  of  future  joys  ?     No  sweeter  foretaste  ? 
nor   fuller  silencing  of  doubts  and  fears  ?     Alas  ! 
how  many  of  thy  servants  are  less  afraid  to  go  to 
a  prison  than  to  their  God ;  and  had  rather  be  ban- 
ished to  a  land  of  strangers,  than  sent  to  heaven  I 
Must  I,  that  am  called  thy  child,  and  an  heir  of 
heaven,  and  a  co-heir  with  Christ,  have  no  more 
acquaintance  with  my  glorified  Lord,  and  no  more 


92  X\HY    IT    13    FAH    BETTER  [Chap.  IV 

love  to  thee,  who  art  my  portion,  before  1  go 
hence?  Shall  I  have  no  more  of  the  heavenly- 
life,  and  light,  and  love  1  Alas  !  I  have  scarce 
enough  in  my  meditations,  or  prayers,  or  sermons, 
to  denominate  them  heavenly.  And  must  I  go 
hence,  so  like  a  stranger,  to  my  home  ?  Wilt 
thou  take  strangers  into  heaven,  and  know  them 
there  as  thine,  who  know  thee  no  better  here? 
O  my  God,  vouchsafe  a  sinner  yet  more  of  the 
Spirit  of  thy  Son,  who  came  to  earth  to  call  up 
earthly  minds  to  God,  and  to  open  heaven  to  all 
believers  !  What  do  I  beg  so  frequently,  so  ear- 
nestly, for  the  sake  of  my  Redeemer,  as  the  Spi- 
rit of  life  and  consolation,  to  show  me  the  recon- 
ciled face  of  God,  and  unite  all  my  affections  to 
my  glorified  Head,  and  draw  up  this  dark  drowsy 
soul  to  love,  and  long  to  be  with  thee  ?" 

Alas  !  though  those  are  my  daily  groans,  how 
little  do  I  ascend !  I  dare  not  blame  the  God  of 
love,  nor  my  blessed  Savior,  nor  the  Sanctifier  and 
Comforter  of  souls.  Undoubtedly  the  cause  is 
my  sinful  resistance  of  the  Spirit,  my  unthankful 
neglects  of  grace  and  glory.  But  mercy  can  for- 
give; grace  can  overcome;  and  may  1  not  hope 
for  such  a  victory  before  I  die?  "  Lord,  I  will  lie 
at  thy  doors  and  pour  out  my  complaints  before 
thee !  Thou  hast  told  us  how  kindly  the  dogs 
licked  the  sores  of  a  Lazarus  that  lay  at  a  rich 
man's  gate ;  thou  hast  commended  the  good  Sa- 
maritan for  taking  care  of  a  wounded  man ;  thou 
sayest,    "  Blessed    are   the    merciful ;"    thou  com- 


Chap.  IV.J  TO    BE    WITH    CURIST.  93 

mandest  us,  "  Be  merciful,  as  your  heavenly  Father 
is  merciful ;"  and  shall  I  wait  at  thy  doors  in  vain? 
Give  me  the  wedding-  garment,  without  which  I 
shall  but  dishonor  thy  feast.  Thou  hast  command- 
ed me  to  rejoice,  and  how  fain  would  I  in  this 
obey  thee !  O  that  I  had  more  faithfully  obeyed 
thee  in  ruling-  my  senses,  my  thoughts,  my  tongue, 
and  in  the  diligent  improvement  of  all  my  talents ; 
then  I  might  more  easily  have  rejoiced.  Lord, 
help  my  love  and  joy  !  How  can  I  rejoice  in  death 
and  darkness  ?  I  hoped  I  was  long  since  "  transla* 
ted  from  the  kingdom  of  darkness,  and  delivered 
from  the  power  of  the  prince  of  darkness,  and 
brought  into  that  light  which  is  the  entrance  of 
the  inheritance  of  saints  ;  and  yet,  alas  !  darkness 
is  still  my  misery.  There  is  light  round  about  me 
in  thy  word  and  works,  but  darkness  is  within  me. 
And  if  my  eye  be  dark,  the  sun  will  be  no  sun  to 
me.  What  is  my  unbelief  but  the  darkness  of 
my  soul?  Lord  Jesus,  scatter  all  these  mists!  O 
thou  Sun  of  righteousness,  make  thy  way  into 
this  benighted  mind.  O  send  thy  advocate  to  si- 
lence every  temptation  against  thy  truth  and  thee, 
to  prosecute  thy  cause  against  thy  enemies  and 
mine,  and  to  witness  my  sonship  and  salvation  ! 
I  know,  my  Lord,  heaven  is  not  far  from  me,  no, 
not  a  day  nor  an  hour's  journey  to  a  separate  soul. 
How  quick  is  the  communion  of  my  eyes  with  the 
distant  sun  !  And  couldestthou  not  show  me  hea- 
ven in  a  moment?  Is  not  faith  a  seeing  grace  ?  If, 
animated  bv  thee,  it  can  see  the   invisible  God  m 


94  WHY    IT    IS    FAR    DETTER  [Chap.  IV. 

the  unseen  world,  the  "  New  Jerusalem,  the  innu- 
merable company  of  angels,  and  the  spirits  of  just 
men  made  perfect;  without  thee,  it  can  do  no- 
thing," and  is  nothing.  Forgive  all  my  sins,  and 
remove  this  film  that  sin  hath  gathered,  and  my 
enlightened  soul  will  see  thy  glory  !  1  know  this 
vail  of  flesh  must  also  be  rent  before  I  shall  see 
thee  with  open  face,  and  know  my  fellow-citizens 
above,  as  I  am  known.  It  is  not  heaven  on  earth 
I  am  asking,  but  that  I  may  see  it  from  mount  Ne- 
bo,  and  have  the  pledge  and  the  first  fruits !  and 
that  my  faith  and  hope  may  kindle  love  and  desire, 
and  make  me  run  my  race  with  patience,  and  live 
and  die  in  the  joy  which  becomes  an  heir  of  hea- 
ven !  But  if  my  faith  on  earth  must  not  increase, 
let  it  make  me  the  more  weary  of  this  dungeon, 
and  more  fervently  wish  for  the  day  when  all  my 
desires  shall  be  satisfied,  and  my  soul  be  filled 
with  thy  light  and  love  !" 

And  in  subordination  to  Christ  I  shall  also  be  a 
receiver  in  heaven  from  angels  and  saints.  If  an- 
gels are  greatly  useful  to  me  here,  much  more  will 
they  be  there,  where  I  shall  be  more  capable  of 
receiving  from  them.  It  will  be  no  more  diminu- 
tion to  the  honor  of  Christ  to  make  use  of  my 
fellow-creatures  to  my  joy  there  than  it  was  here. 
How  gloriously  will  God  shine  in  the  glory  of  the 
blessed  !  how  delightful  will  it  be  to  see  their  per- 
fection in  wisdom,  holiness,  and  love  !  They  will 
love  incomparably  belter  than  our  dearest  friends 
on  earth  can,  who  can  only  pity  us  in  our  pains, 


Cbap.  IV.j  TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST.  95 

and  go  weeping  with  our  corpses  to  the  grave ; 
but  the  friends  above  will  joyfully  convoy  or  wel- 
come our  souls  to  their  triumphant  society.  What 
a  glorious  state  will  it  be,  when  all  the  love  of  an- 
gels and  saints  in  full  perfection  shall  be  so  united 
as  to  make  one  love  to  one  God,  and  to  each  other, 
as  made  one  in  Christ !  We  little  know  how  great 
a  mercy  it  is  here,  to  be  commanded  to  love  our 
neighbors  as  ourselves ;  and  much  more  to  be  ef- 
fectually taught  of  God  to  love  one  another.  Did 
we  all  live  in  such  unfeigned  love,  earth  would  re- 
semble heaven.  "  Go,  then,  go  willingly,  O  my 
soul !  love  joins  with  light  to  draw  up  thy  desires. 
Art  thou  a  lover  of  wisdom,  holiness,  and  love, 
and  wouldest  thou  not  be  united  to  the  wise  and 
holy,  who  are  made  up  of  love?  Art  thou  a  hater 
of  discords  and  divisions  on  earth,  and  wouldest 
thou  not  be  where  all  the  just  are  one  ?  Is  not 
thy  body,  while  kept  together  by  an  uniting  soul, 
in  a  better  state  than  when  it  is  to  be  crumbled 
into  lifeless  dust?  and  does  not  death  creep  on 
thee  by  a  gradual  dissolution  ?  Away,  then,  from 
this  incoherent  state !  The  farther  from  the  centre, 
the  farther  from  unity.  It  is  now  thy  weakness 
and  imperfection  which  makes  thee  so  desirous 
that  thy  house,  thy  land,  thy  clothes,  thy  books, 
yea,  thy  knowledge  and  grace,  should  be  thine, 
and  thine  only.  How  much  more  excellent  if  thou 
couldest  say  that  all  these,  like  the  light  of  the 
sun,  are  mine,  and  every  one's  as  well  as  mine  ! 
In  heaven,  thy  knowledge,  thy  glory  and  felicity 


96  WHY    IT    IS    FAR    GETTER  [Chap.  1V» 

shall  be  thine,  and  other's  as  well  as  thine.  The 
knowledge,  goodness  and  glory  of  all  that  perfect 
society  shall  be  thine  as  far  as  thy  capacity  ex- 
tends. Then  hasten  upward,  O  my  soul,  with  thy 
most  fervent  desires,  and  breathe  after  that  state 
with  thy  strongest  hopes,  where  thou  shalt  not  be 
rich  and  see  thy  neighbors  poor ;  nor  be  poor 
while  they  are  rich;  nor  be  well  while  they  are 
sick;  nor  sick  while  they  are  well !"  Communion, 
as  it  constitutes  the  very  being  of  the  city  of  God, 
will  be  part  of  every  one's  felicity,  and  none  will 
have  the  less  for  the  participation  of  the  rest.  This 
celestial  communion  of  saints  in  one  holy  church, 
above  what  is  here  attainable,  is  now  an  article  of 
our  belief;  but  believing  will  soon  end  in  seeing 
and  enjoying. 

5.  It  is  also  far  better  for  me  to  be  with  Chri.st, 
that  I  may  have  a  perfect  activity  in  doing  good. 
There  are  good  works  in  heaven,  and  far  more 
and  better  than  on  earth.  There  will  be  more  life 
and  power  for  action ;  more  love  to  God  and  one 
another,  to  excite  to  action ;  more  likeness  to  God 
and  Christ  in  doing  good,  as  well  as  being  good ; 
more  union  with  the  beneficent  Jesus,  to  make  us 
also  beneficent ;  and  more  communion,  by  each 
contributing  to  the  welfare  of  the  whole,  and  shar* 
ing  in  their  common  returns  to  God,  What  the 
heavenly  works  are  we  must  perfectly  know  when 
we  come  thither.  "  We  shall  join  with  the  whole 
society,"  as  the  Scriptures  particularly  describe, 
"  in  giving  thanks  and  praise  to  God  and   our  Re- 


Chap.  IV.]  TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST.  07 

deemer."  All  passions  earnestly  desire  to  be  free 
ly  exercised,  especially  our  holy  affections  of  love, 
joy,  and  admiration  of  Almighty  God.  In  express- 
ing such  affections,  we  naturally  desire  communion 
with  many.  Methinks,  when  we  are  singing  the 
praises  of  God  in  great  assemblies  with  joyful  and 
fervent  spirits,  1  have  the  liveliest  foretaste  of  hea* 
ven  upon  earth,  and  could  almost  wish  that  our 
voices  were  loud  enough  to  reach  through  all  the 
world,  and  to  heaven  itself  Nor  could  I  ever  be 
offended  with  the  sober  and  seasonable  use  of  in- 
strumental music  to  help  to  tune  my  soul  in  so 
holy  a  work.  Nothing  comforts  me  more  in  my 
greatest  sufferings,  nor  seems  more  fit  for  me  while 
I  wait  for  death,  than  singing  psalms  of  praise  to 
God,  nor  is  there  any  exercise  in  which  I  had  ra- 
ther end  my  life.  Should  I  not  then  willingly  go 
to  the  heavenly  choir,  where  God  is  praised  with 
perfect  love,  and  joy,  and  harmony  ?  Had  I  more  of 
a  praising  frame,  of  soul  I  should  long  no  more  for 
that  life  of  praise.  I  never  find  myself  more  will- 
ing to  be  there  than  when  I  most  joyfully  speak 
or  sing  the  praises  of  God.  Though  the  *'dead 
praise  not  God  in  the  grave,  nor  dust  celebrate 
him ;"  yet  living  souls  in  heaven  do  it  joyfully, 
while  their  fleshly  clothing  turns  to  dust.  "  Lord, 
tune  my  soul  to  thy  praises  now,  that  sweet  expe- 
rience may  make  me  long  to  be  where  I  shall  do 
it  better  !  Wherever  there  is  any  excellent  music, 
I  see  men  naturally  flock  to  it  and  hear  it  with 
delight.  Surely:  had  I  once  heard  the  heavenly 
1),  9 


98  WHY    IT    IS    FAR    BETTER  [Chap.  IV. 

choir,  I  should  echo  to  their  holy  songs,  and  think 
it  the  truest  blessedness  to  bear  my  part.  My  God, 
it  is  the  inward  melody  of  thy  Spirit,  and  my  o\\ii 
conscience,  that  must  tune  me  for  the  heavenly 
melody.  O  speak  thy  love  first  to  my  heart,  and 
then  I  shall  joyfully  speak  it  to  others,  and  shall 
ardently  seek  after  communion  better  than  that  of 
sinful  mortals  1  Though  my  sins  make  a  sad  dis- 
cord in  my  present  songs,  I  hope  my  sighs  and 
tears  for  sin  have  had  the  honor  of  thine  accep- 
tance, who  despiseth  not  a  contrite  soul.  But  if 
thy  Spirit  will  sing  and  speak  within  me,  and  help 
me  against  the  jarring  murmur  of  my  unbeliev- 
ing heart  and  pained  flesh,  I  shall  then  ofl^er 
thee  what  is  more  suitable  to  thy  love  and  grace.  I 
confess.  Lord,  that  daily  tears  and  sighs  are  not  un- 
suitable to  the  eyes  and  voice  of  so  great  a  sinner, 
now  under  thy  correcting  rod.  But  'he  that  offer- 
eth  praise  glorifies  thee  ;'  and  is  not  this  the  '  spirit- 
ual sacrifice,  acceptable  through  Christ,  for  which 
we  are  made  priests  to  God  ?'  1  refuse  not.  Lord, 
to  lie  in  tears  and  groans  when  thou  requirest  it,  nor 
do  thou  reject  those  tears  and  groans;  but,  O  give 
me  better,  that  I  may  have  better  of  thine  own  to 
oflfer  thee,  and  so  prepare  me  for  the  far  better  which 
I  shall  find  with  Christ!" 

Probably  God  makes  glorified  spirits  the  agents 
of  his  beneficence  to  inferior  creatures.  Where  he 
bestows  on  any  the  noblest  endowments,  we  see  he 
makes  most  use  of  such  for  the  benefit  of  others. 
Christ  tells  us  we  shall  be  like,  or  equal  to  the  an- 


Chap,  v.]  TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST.  99 

gels,  who  are  evidently  the  ministers  of  God  for  the 
good  of  his  people  in  this  world.  The  apostle 
says,  "  the  saints  shall  judge  the  world"  and  "  an- 
gels ;"  intimating  that  devils  and  damned  spirits 
shall  be  subjected  to  the  saints.  But  if  there  were 
no  more  for  us  to  do  in  heaven,  but  with  perfect 
knowledge,  love,  and  joy  to  hold  communion  with 
God  and  all  the  heavenly  society,  it  is  enough  to 
excite,  in  a  considerate  soul,  the  most  fervent  de- 
sires to  be  at  home  with  God. 


CBAFTXSR  V. 


The  author  breathes  after  willingness  to  depart  and 
to  he  with  Christ. 

I  am  convinced  that  it  is  far  better  to  depart  and 
to  be  with  Christ,  than  to  be  here.  But  this  con- 
viction alone  will  not  excite  such  desires  in  my 
soul.  They  are  opposed  by  a  natural  aversion  to 
death,  which  sin  has  greatly  increased  ;  by  the  re- 
mains of  unbelief,  which  avails  itself  of  our  dark- 
ness in  the  flesh  and  our  too  great  familiarity  with 
this  visible  world ;  and  also  by  the  want  of  our 
more  lively  foretaste  of  heaven.  What  must  be 
done  to  overcome  this  opposition  ?  Is  there  no 
remedy?  Yes,  there  is  a  divine  leaching,  by  which 
we  must  learn  "so  to  number  our  days,  that  we 
may  apply  our  hearts  unto  wisdom."     When  we 


100  WILLINGNESS    TO    DEPART,  [Chap.  V. 

have  read  and  heard,  spoken  and  written  the 
soundest  truth  and  strongest  arguments,  we  still 
know  as  if  we  knew  not,  and  believe  as  if  we  be- 
lieved not,  unless  God  powerfully  impresses  the 
same  things  on  our  minds,  and  awakens  our  souls 
to  feel  what  we  know.  Since  we  fell  from  God, 
the  communion  between  our  senses  and  under- 
standing, and  also  between  our  understanding  and 
our  will  and  affections,  is  violated,  and  we  are  di- 
vided in  ourselves  by  this  schism  in  our  faculties. 
All  men  may  easily  know  that  there  is  an  almigh- 
ty, omniscient,  omnipresent,  eternal,  and  perfectly 
holy  and  good  God,  the  maker,  preserver,  and  go- 
vernor of  all,  who  deserves  our  whole  trust,  love, 
and  obedience ;  but  how  little  of  this  knowledge  is 
to  be  perceived  in  men's  hearts  or  lives  !  AH 
men  know  that  the  world  is  vanity,  that  man  must 
die,  that  riches  cannot  then  profit,  that  time  is  pre- 
cious, and  that  we  have  but  little  time  to  prepare 
for  eternity ;  but  how  little  do  men  seem  to  have 
of  the  real  knowledge  of  these  plain  truths  !  In- 
deed, when  God  comes  in  with  his  powerful  awak- 
ening light  and  love,  then  those  things  appear 
as  different  as  if  wc  were  beginning  to  know 
them.  All  my  best  reasons  for  our  immortality 
are  but  as  the  new-formed  body  of  Adam  before 
"  God  breathed  into  him  the  breath  of  life ;"  and 
he  only  can  make  them  living  reasons.  To  the 
Father  of  lights  I  must  therefore  still  look  up, 
and  for  his  light  and  bve  I  must  still  wait.  I  must 
learn  both  as  a  student  and  a  beggar.     When  I 


Chap,  v.]  AND    TO    BE    WITH   CHRTST.  101 

have  thought  and  thought  a  thousand  times,  I  must 
beg  thy  blessing,  Lord,  upon  my  thoughts.  The 
eye  of  my  understanding  will  be  useless  or  vexa- 
tious to  me  without  thy  illuminating  beams.  O 
shine  the  soul  of  thy  servant  into  a  clearer  know- 
ledge of  thyself  and  kingdom,  and  love  him  into 
more  divine  and  heavenly  love,  and  he  will  then 
willingly  come  to  thee  1 

Why  should  I,  by  the  fears  of  death,  strive 
against  the  common  course  of  nature,  and  against 
my  only  hopes  of  happiness  ?  Is  it  not  •'  appoint- 
ed unto  men  once  to  die?"  Would  I  have  God 
make  sinful  man  immortal  upon  earth  ?  When  we 
are  sinless,  we  shall  be  immortal.  The  love  of  life 
was  given  to  teach  me  to  preserve  it  with  care  and 
use  it  well,  and  not  to  torment  myself  with  the  con- 
tinual foresight  of  death.  If  it  be  the  misery  after 
death  that  is  feared,  0  what  have  I  to  do  but  to  re- 
ceive the  free  reconciling  grace  which  is  offered 
me  from  heaven  to  save  me  from  such  misery, 
and  to  devote  myself  totally  to  him  who  has  pro- 
mised, •'  Him  that  cometh  to  me,  I  will  in  nowise 
cast  out  ?"  Had  I  studied  my  duty,  and  remem- 
bered that  I  am  not  my  own,  and  that  my  times 
are  in  God's  hands,  I  had  been  quiet  from  these 
fruitless  fears.  Had  my  resignation  and  devoted- 
ness  to  God  been  more  absolute,  my  trust  in  him 
would  have  been  more  easy.  "  But,  Lord,  thou 
knowest  that  I  would  fain  be  thine,  and  wholly 
thine,  and  that  to  thee  I  desire  to  live :  therefor© 
let  me  wholly  trust  thee  with  my  soul." 
D         '  „  0* 


102  WILLINGNESS    TO   DEPART,  (.Chap.  V. 

Why  should  I  have  any  remaining  doubt  of  the 
future  state  of  pious  separate  spirits?  My  Savior 
has  entered  into  the  holiest,  and  has  assured  me 
that  "there  are  many  mansions  in  liis  Father's 
house,"  and  that  when  we  are  "absent  from  the 
body,"  we  shall  be  "  present  with  the  Lord." 
Who  can  think  that  all  holy  souls  that  have  gone 
Ijcnce  from  the  beginning  of  the  world,  have  been 
deceived  in  their  faith  and  hope?  and  that  all 
those  whose  hope  was  only  in  this  life  have  been 
in  the  right !  Shall  I  not  abhor  every  suggestion 
ihat  contains  such  absurdities  ?  Wonderful,  that 
Satan  can  keep  up  so  much  unbelief  in  the  world, 
while  he  must  make  men  fools  in  order  to  make 
them  unbelievers  and  ungodly  ! 

That  my  soul  has  no  more  lively  foretastes  of 
heaven,  arises  from  those  many  willful  sins  by 
which  I  have  quenched  the  Spirit,  and  from  the 
soul's  imprisonment  in  the  flesh.  This,  O  this  is 
the  misery  and  burden  of  my  soul !  Though  I 
can  say,  I  love  God's  truth  and  grace,  his  work 
and. servants;  yet  that  I  have  no  more  ardent  and 
delightful  love  of  heaven,  where  his  loveliness  will 
be  more  fully  opened  to  my  soul,  is  my  sin,  cala- 
mity, and  shame.  If  I  did  not  see  that  it  is  so  with 
other  of  the  servants  of  Christ  as  well  as  myself, 
I  should  doubt  whether  aflections  so  dispropor- 
tionate to  my  profession  did  not  imply  an  unsound 
faith.  It  is  strange  that  one  who  expects  quickly 
to  see  the  glorious  world,  and  enter  the  holy  celes- 
tial society,  should  not  be  more  joyfully  affected 


Chap,  v.]  AND    TO    BE    WITH  CHRIST.  103 

with  such  hopes !  and  that  1  should  think  so  much 
of  the  pain  and  perishing  of  the  flesh,  though  it 
be  the  common  way  to  such  an  end  !  O  hateful 
sin,  that  has  so  darkened  and  corrupted  souls  as 
to  indispose  them  for  their  only  expected  happi- 
ness !  What  did  man,  when  he  forsook  the  love 
and  obedience  of  his  God  ?  How  just  that  this 
flesh  should  be  our  prison,  w^hich  wc  are  for  ma- 
king our  home  !  How  mournful,  that  there  is  no 
more  grace  and  holiness,  knowledge  of  God  and 
communion  with  him  in  this  world  !  that  so  few  are 
saints,  and  those  few  so  very  imperfect !  that  while 
the  sun  shines  on  all  the  earth,  the  Sun  of  righte- 
ousness shines  on  so  small  a  part  of  it !  He  that 
made  us  capable  of  holy  and  heavenly  affections, 
gave  us  not  that  capacity  in  vain.  Yet,  alas  !  how 
little  of  God  and  glory  enters  into  the  hearts  of 
men !  When  recovering  light  shines  upon  us, 
how  unthankfully  do  v.^e  entertain  it !  We  cannot 
have  the  conduct  and  comfort  of  it  while  we  shut 
our  eyes  and  turn  away.  And  though  God  give  to 
the  best  not  so  much  of  it  as  they  desire,  it  is  an 
unspeakable  mercy,  that  in  this  darksome  world  we 
may  but  hear  of  a  better  world,  and  may  seek  it 
in  hope.  We  must  not  grudge  in  our  prison  to  be 
denied  such  a  presence  of  our  king,  and  such  plea- 
sures of  the  kingdom,  as  innocent  and  free  sub- 
jects have.  Hope  of  pardon,  and  of  a  speedy  de- 
liverance, are  great  mercies  to  malefactors.  And 
if  my  want  of  the  knowledge  and  love  of  God,  and 
of  joyful   communion   with  the   heavenly   societ)% 


104  WILLINGNESS    TO    DEPART,  [Chap.  V. 

be  my  prison,  and  as  the  suburbs  of  hel/,  should 
it  not  make  me  long-  for  the  day  of  my  redemption, 
and  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  sons  of  God?  iVIy 
sincere  desires  of  deliverance,  and  of  holiness  and 
perfection,  are  my  evidences  that  I  shall  obtain 
them.  As  the  will  is  the  sinner,  so  the  obstinate 
continuance  of  a  will  to  sin  is  the  cause  of  con- 
tinued sin.  So  far  as  God  makes  us  willing  to  be 
delivered  from  sin,  so  far  we  are  delivered,  and 
our  imperfect  deliverance  is  the  way  to  more.  If 
pains  make  me  groan  for  ease,  and  sickness  for 
health,  why  should  not  my  remains  of  ignorance, 
unbelief,  and  alienation  from  God,  excite  my  de- 
sire after  the  day  of  my  salvation?  As  it  is  the 
nature  of  my  sin  to  draw  down  my  heart  from  God 
and  glory ;  so  it  is  the  nature  of  my  faith,  hope, 
and  love,  to  raise  my  heart  toward  heavenly  per- 
fection ;  not  to  desire  death,  but  that  which  is  be- 
yond it.  And  have  I  been  so  many  years  in  the 
school  of  Christ,  learning  both  how  to  live  and 
die,  praying  for  this  grace,  and  exercising  it  against 
this  sinful  flesh  ;  and  after  all,  shall  I  not  find  flesh 
more  powerful  to  draw  me  downward,  than  faith, 
hope,  and  love,  to  carry  my  desires  up  to  God? 
*•  O  God,  forbid  !  O  thou  that  freely  gavest  me 
thy  grace,  maintain  it  to  the  last  against  its  ene- 
mies, and  make  it  finally  victorious  !  It  came  from 
thee ;  it  has  been  preserved  by  thee ;  it  is  on  thy 
side,  and  wholly  for  thee ;  without  it  I  had  lived 
as  a  beast,  and  should  die  more  miserably  than  a 
beast;  it  is  thine  image  that  thou  lovest:    it  is  a. 


Chap,  v.]  AND    TO    BE    WITH   CHRIST.  105 

divine  nature  and  a  heavenly  beam.  What  will  a 
soul  be  without  it,  but  a  dungeon  of  darkness,  and 
dead  to  holiness  and  heaven  1  Without  it  who 
shall  plead  thy  cause  against  the  devil,  world,  and 
flesh  1  Without  thy  glory,  earth  is  but  earth  ;  and 
without  thy  grace,  earth  would  be  a  hell.  O  rather 
deny  me  the  light  of  the  sun  than  the  light  of  thy 
countenance !  Less  miserable  had  I  been  without 
life  or  being,  than  without  thy  grace.  Without 
thine  and  my  Savior's  help,  I  can  do  nothing. 
I  could  not  pray  or  learn  without  thee;  I  never 
could  conquer  a  temptation  without  thee ;  and  can 
I  die,  or  be  prepared  to  die,  without  thee  ?  I  shall 
but  say,  as  Thomas  of  Christ,  I  know  not  whither 
my  soul  is  going,  and  how  can  I  know  the  way  ? 
My  Lord  having  loved  his  own  which  were  in  the 
world,  he  loved  them  unto  the  end.  He  even  com- 
mended and  rewarded  those  that  had  continued 
with  him  in  his  temptations.  Thou  lovest  fidelity 
and  perseverance  in  thy  servants;  and  wilt  thou 
forsake  a  sinner  in  his  extremit}^  who  consents  to 
thy  covenant,  and  would  not  forsake  thee  ?  My 
God,  I  have  often  sinned  against  thee;  but  thou 
knowest  I  would  fain  be  thine.  I  can  say  with 
Paul,  thou  art  the  "  God  whose  I  am,  and  whom 
I  serve;"  and  0  that  I  could  serve  thee  better!  To 
serve  thee  is  but  to  receive  thy  grace,  and  use  it  for 
my  own  and  other's  good,  and  thereby  please  and 
glorify  thee.  I  have  nothing  to  do  in  this  world 
but  to  seek  and  serve  thee.  I  have  nothing  to  do 
with  my  tongue  but  to  speak  to  thee,  and  for  thee; 


106  WILLINGNESS    TO    DEPART,  [Chap.  V. 

and  with  my  pen,  but  to  publish  thy  glory  and  thy 
will.  What  have  I  to  do  with  all  my  reputation 
and  influence  over  others,  but  to  increase  thy 
church,  and  propagate  thy  holy  truth  and  service? 
What  have  I  to  do  with  my  remaining  time,  even 
these  last  and  languishing  hours,  but  to  look  up 
unto  thee,  and  wait  for  thy  grace  and  thy  salvation  ? 
O  pardon  all  my  carnal  thoughts,  all  my  unthank- 
ful treatment  of  thy  grace  and  love,  and  all  my 
willful  sins  against  thy  truth  and  thee  !  Under  the 
terrors  of  the  law  thou  didst  even  proclaim  thyself 
"  The  Lord,  the  Lord  God,  merciful  and  gracious, 
long-suffering,  and  abundant  in  goodness  and  truth  ; 
keeping  mercy  for  thousands,  forgiving  iniquity, 
transgression,  and  sin."  And  is  not  "the  grace  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ "  revealed  in  the  Gospel  for 
our  more  abundant  faith  and  consolation  ?  My 
God,  I  know  I  can  never  be  sufficiently  confident 
of  thy  aii-sufficient  power,  wisdom,  and  good- 
ness. When  I  have  said,  "  Will  the  Lord  cast  off' 
for  ever?  and  will  he  be  favorable  no  more?  Is 
his  mercy  clean  gone  for  ever  ?  Doth  his  promise 
fail  for  evermore  ?  Hath  God  forgotten  to  be  gra- 
cious? Hath  he  in  anger  shut  up  his  tender  mer- 
cies ?"  Conscience  has  replied,  This  is  mine  in- 
firmity, I  never  wanted  comfort  for  want  of  mercy 
in  thee,  but  for  want  of  faith  and  holiness  in  my- 
self. And  hast  thou  not  mercy  also  to  give  rae 
that  faith  and  holiness  ?  My  God,  all  is  of  thee 
and  through  thee,  and  to  thee ;  and  when  I  have 
the  felicity,  the  glory  of  all  for  ever  will   be  thine. 


I 


Chap,  v.]  AND  TO  BE  wrrn  Christ.  107 

None  that  trust  in  thy  nature  and  promise  shall 
be  ashamed.  If  I  can  live  and  die  trusting  in  thee, 
surely  I  shall  not  be  confounded. 

Why  then  should  it  seem  a  difficult  question  how 
ray  soul  may  willingly  leave  this  world  and  go  to 
Christ  in  peace !  The  same  grace  which  regen- 
erated me,  must  bring  me  to  my  desired  end,  "  Be- 
lieve  and  trust  thy  Father,  thy  Savior,  and  thy 
Comforter.  Hope  for  the  joyful  entertainments  of 
the  promised  blessedness;  and  long  by  love  for 
nearer  divine  union  and  communion.  Thus,  O  my 
soul,  mayest  thou  depart  in  peace.'' 

I.  Believe  and  trust  the  promise  of  God.  How 
sure  is  it,  and  how  suitable  to  his  love,  to  the  na- 
ture of  our  souls,  and  to  the  operations  of  every 
grace!  "  Why,  O  my  soul,  art  thou  so  vainly  so- 
licitous to  have  clear,  distinct  conceptions  of  the 
celestial  world?  When  thou  art  possessed  of  a 
better  state,  thou  shalt  know  it  as  a  possessor  ought 
to  do ;  for  such  a  knowledge  as  thou  lookest  after 
is  part  of  the  possession.  Thy  Savior  and  his 
frlorified  saints  are  possessors.  His  knowledge 
must  now  be  thy  chief  satisfaction.  Seek  not  vain* 
ly  to  usurp  his  prerogative.  Wouldest  thou  be  a 
God  and  Savior  to  thyself?  Consider  how  much 
of  the  fall  there  is  in  this  selfish  desire  to  be  as  God, 
in  knowing  that  which  belongs  not  to  thee  to 
know.  Thou  knowest  that  there  undoubtedly  is 
a  God  of  infinite  perfection,  "  and  that  he  is  a  re- 
warder  of  them  that  diligently  seek  him."  Labor 
more  to  know  thy  duty  to  this  God,  and  absolutely 


103  T^ILLI.NGXCSS   tO    DEFAKT,  [Chap.  V. 

trust  him  as  to  the  particulars  of  thy  reward. 
Thou  didst  trust  thy  parents  to  provide  thee  food 
and  raiment,  and  didst  implicitly  obey  them.  Thou 
liast  trusted  phy&iciana  to  give  thee  medicines, 
without  inquiring  after  every  ingredient.  If  a  pi- 
lot undertake  to  carry  thee  to  the  Indies,  thou  canst 
trust  his  conduct  without  knowing  either  the  ship 
or  how  to  govern  it,  or  the  way,  or  the  place  to 
which  thou  art  conveyed.  And  must  not  thy  God 
and  Savior  be  trusted  to  bring  thee  aafe  to  heaven  un- 
less he  will  satisfy  all  thy  inquiries  ?  The  Command 
to  be  "careful  for  nothing,"  and  to  "cast  all  thy 
care  on  God,  who  careth  for  thee,"  obligeth  thee 
in  all  things  that  are  God's  part.  To  dispose  of 
a  departing  soul  is  God's  part.  O  how  much  evii 
is  there  in  this  distrusting,  self-providing  care ! 
Be  not  "  cast  down,"  O  departing  soul,  nor  by  un- 
belief "  disquieted  within  me.  Trust  thou  in  God," 
for  soon  shall  experience  teach  thee  to  '*  praise 
him,"  who  is  "  the  health  of  rny  countenance,  and 
my  God." 

How  clearly  does  reason  command  me  to  trust 
him,  absolutely  and  implicitly  to  trust  him,  and  to 
distrust  myself?  He  is  essential,  infinite  perfec- 
tion, wisdom,  power,  and  love.  There  is  nothing 
to  be  trusted  in  any  creature  but  God  working 
in  it,  or  by  it*  I  am  altogether  his  own,  by  right, 
by  devotion,  and  by  consent.  He  is  the  giver 
of  all  good  to  every  creature,  as  freely  as  the 
sun  gives  its  light :  and  shall  we  not  trust  the  sun 
to  shine?     lie  is  my  Father,  and  has  taken  me 


Chap.  V.J  AND   TO    BE   WITH   CHRIST.  109 

into  his  family,  and  shall  I  not  trust  my  heavenly 
Father?  He  has  given  me  his  Son,  as  the  greatest 
pledge  of  his  love,  and  "  shall  he  not  with  him 
also  freely  give  me  all  things'?"    His  Son  pur- 
posely came  to  reveal  his  Father's  unspeakable 
Jove,  and  shall  I  not  trust  him  who  has  proclaimed 
his  love  by  such  a  messenger  from  heaven?    He 
has  given  me  the  Spirit  of  his  Son,  even  the  Spirit 
of  adoption,  the  witness,  pledge,  and  earnest  of  hea- 
ven, the  seal  of  God  upon  me,  "  holiness  to  the 
Lord,"  and  shall  I  not  believe  his  love  and  trust 
him  1    He  has  made  me  a  member  of  his  Son,  and 
will  he  not  take  care  of  me,  and  is  not  Christ  to 
be  trusted  with  his  members?    1  am  his  interest, 
and  the  interest  of  his  Son,  freely  beloved  and 
dearly  bought,  and  may  I  not  trust  him  with  his 
treasure?    He  has   made  me  the  care  of  angels, 
who  rejoiced  at  my  repentance,   and  shall  they 
lose  their  joy  or  ministration?    He  is  in  covenant 
v/ith  me,  and  has  "  given  me  many  great  and  pre- 
cious promises,"   and  can  he  be  unfaithful?    My 
Savior  is  the  forerunner,  who  has  entered  into  the 
holiest,   and  is  there  interceding  for  me,  halving 
first  conquered  death  to  assure  us  of  a  future  life, 
and  ascended  into  heaven,  to  show  us  whither  we 
must  ascend,  saying  to  his  brethren,  "  I  ascend  to 
my  Father  and  your  Father,  to  ray  God  and  your 
God ;"  and  shall  I  not  follow  him  through  death, 
and  trust  such  a  guide  and  captain  of  my  salvation  ? 
He  is  there  to  "  prepare  a  place  for  me,  and  will 
receive  me  unto  himself,"  and  may  I  not  confi' 

D  10 


110  WILLINGNESS    TO   DEPART,  [Cliap.  V 

dently  expect  it  ?     He  told  a  malefactor  on  the 
cross,  "  To-day  shall  thou  be  \vi\h  me  in  paradise,'' 
l-o  show  believing  sinners  what  they  may  expect. 
His  apostles  and  other  saints  have  served  him  on 
earth  with  all  these  expectations.     "  The  spirits 
of  just  men  made  perfect"  are  now  possessiug 
what  I  hope  for,  and  I  am  a  "  follower  of  theiii 
who  through  faith  and  patience  inherit  the  promis- 
ed" felicity;  and  may  I  not  trust  him  to  save  me, 
who  has  already  saved  millions?    I  must  be  at  the 
divine  disposal,  whether  I  will  or  not ;  and  how- 
ever I  vex  my  soul  with  fears,  and  cares,  and  sor- 
rows, I  shall  never  prevail  against  the  will  of  God 
which  is  the  only  rest  of  souls.     Our  own  wills 
have  undone  us,  and  are  our  disease,  our  prison, 
and  our  death,  till  they  are  brought  over  to  the 
will  of  God;  and  shall  J  die,  distrustfully  striving 
against  his  will,  and  preferring  my  own  before  it? 
What  abundant  experience  have  I  had  of  God's 
fidelity  and  love,  and  after  all   shall  I  not   trust 
him  ?  His  undeserved  mercy  gave  me  being,  chose 
my  parents,  gave  them  affecti^onate  desires  for  my 
real  good,  taught  them  to  instruct  me  early  in  his 
word,  and  educate  me  in  his  fear ;  made  my  habi- 
tation and  companions  suitable,  endowed  me  with 
a  teachable  disposition,  j)ut  excellent  books  into 
my  hands,  and  placed  me  under  wise  and  faithful 
schoolmasters  and  ministers.    His  mercy  fixed  me 
in  the  best  of  lands,  and  in  the  best  age  that  land 
had  seen.    His  mercy  early  destroyed  in  me  aU 
great  expectations  from  the  world,  taught  me  to 


Chap.  V.J  AND   TO    BE    WITH   CHRIST.  Ill 

bear  the  yoke  from  my  youth,  caused  me  rather 
to  groan  under  my  infirmities,  than  struggle  with 
powerful  lusts,  and  chastened  me  betimes,  but  did 
not  give  me  over  unto  death.  Ever  since  I  was 
at  the  age  of  nineteen,  great  mercy  has  trained 
me  lip  in  the  school  of  affliction,  to  keep  my  slug- 
gish soul  awake  in  the  constant  expectation  of  my 
change,  to  kill  my  proud  and  worldly  thoughts, 
and  to  direct  all  my  studies  to  things  the  most  ne- 
cessary. How  has  a  life  of  constant  but  gentle 
chastisement  urged  me  to  "  make  my  calling  and 
election  sure,"  and  to  prepare  my  accounts,  as  one 
that  must  quickly  give  them  up  to  God!  The  face 
of  death,  and  nearness  of  eternity,  convinced  me 
what  books  to  read,  what  studies  to  prosecute, 
what  companions  to  choose ;  drove  me  early  into 
the  vineyard  of  the  Lord,  and  taught  me  to  preach 
as  a  dying  man  to  dying  men.  It  was  divine  love 
and  mercy  which  made  sacred  truth  so  pleasant  to 
me  that  ray  life,  under  all  my  infirmities,  has  been 
almost  a  constant  recreation.  How  far  beyond 
my  expectation  has  a  merciful  God  encouraged 
me  in  his  sacred  work,  choosing  every  place  of 
my  ministry  and  abode  to  this  day,  without  my 
own  seeking,  and  never  sending  me  to  labor  in 
vain !  How  many  are  gone  to  heaven,  and  how 
many  are  in  the  way,  through  a  divine  blessing 
on  the  word  which  in  weakness  I  delivered  !  Ma- 
ny good  Christians  are  glad  of  now  and  then  an 
hour  to  meditate  on  God's  word,  and  refresh  them- 
selves in  his  holy  worship,  but  God  has  allowed 


112  WILLINGNESS   TO    DEPART,  [Cnap.  V. 

and  called  me  to  make  it  the  constant  business 
of  my  life.  In  my  library  I  have  profitably  and 
pleasantly  dwelt  among  the  shining  lights,  with 
H'hicli  the  learned,  v/ise,  and  holy  men  of  all  ages 
have  illuminated  the  world.  How  many  comfor- 
table hours  have  I  had  in  the  society  of #iving 
saints,  and  in  the  love  of  faithful  friends!  How 
many  joyful  days  in  solemn  worshiping  assemblies 
where  the  Spirit  of  Christ  has  been  manifestly 
present,  both  with  ministers  and  people !  How 
unworthy  was  such  a  sinful  worm  as  I,  who  never 
had  any  academical  helps,  nor  much  from  the 
mouth  of  any  teacher,  that  books  should  become 
so  great  a  blessing  to  me,  and  that  God  should 
induce  or  constrain  me,  quite  beyond  my  own 
intentions,  to  provide  any  such  like  helps  for 
others  !  How  unworthy  that  God  should  use  me 
above  forty  years  in  so  comfortable  a  work  as 
pleading  and  writing  for  love,  peace,  and  concord^ 
and  with  so  much  success  !  What  mercy  had  I, 
amidst  the  calamities  of  a  civil  war,  to  live  two 
vears  in  safety  at  Coventry,  a  city  of  defence,  and 
in  the  heart  of  the  kingdom  !  When  I  afterv/ard 
saw  the  effects  of  human  folly,  and  fury,  and  of 
God's  displeasure,  in  the  ruin  of  towns  and  coun- 
tries, and  in  the  fields  covered  with  carcasses  of 
ihe  slain,  how  mercifully  was  I  preserved  and 
brought  home  in  peace!  And  O  how  great 
was  the  mercy  showed  me  in  a  peacable,  humble, 
unanimous  people,  so  numerous,  so  exemplary, 
and  who  to  this  day  maintain  their  integrity  and 


Chap,  v.]  AND    TO   BE   WITH   CHRIST.  113 

concord,  when,  for  thirty-one  years,  I  have  been 
forced  to  remain  at  a  distance  from  them  !  What 
a  mercy,  when  I  might  not  speak  by  voice  to  any 
single  congregation,  to  be  enabled  to  speak  by 
writings  to  many,  and  to  have  the  plainest  writings 
attended  with  success,  and  some  of  them  sent  to 
preach  in  foreign  lands  and  languages  !  Though 
I  have  been  sent  to  the  common  jail  for  my  ser- 
vice and  obedience  to  God,  yet  he  has  there  kept 
me  in  peace,  and  soon  delivered  me  :  and  how  of- 
ten has  he  succored  me  when  nature  and  art  have 
failed !  How  he  has  cured  my  consumptive  coughs, 
stopped  my  flowing  blood,  eased  my  pained 
jimbs,  and  upheld  an  emaciated  skeleton  !  I  have 
had  fifty  years  added  to  my  days,  though  I  ex- 
pected not  to  live  one  of  them  :  and  what  strange 
deliverances  have  been  wrought  for  me,  upon  the 
importunate  requests  of  many  hundreds  of  my 
praying  friends !  How  have  I  been  kept  in  ordi- 
nary health  and  safety,  when  the  raging  pestilence 
came  near  my  habitation  and  consumed  an  hun- 
dred thousand  citizens  !  And  how  was  my  dwell- 
ing preserved,  when  I  saw  London,  the  glory  of 
the  land,  in  flames  ! — These,  and  many  more,  arc 
my  experiences  of  that  wonderful  mercy  which 
has  measured  my  pilgrimage,  and  filled  up  my 
days.  Never  did  God  break  his  promise  with 
me.  Never  did  he  fail  me,  or  forsake  me.  And 
shall  I  now  distrust  him  at  last? 

"  To  thee,  O  Lord,  as  to  '  a  faithful  Creator,'  I 
commit  my  soul.    I  know  that  thou  art '  the  faith« 
D  10* 


114  WILLINGNESS   TO    DEPART,  [Cbap.  V 

ful  God,  which  keepetli  covenant  and  mercy  with 
them  that  love  thee  and  keep  thy  commandments. 
Thou  art  faithful,  who  hast  called  me  to  the  fel- 
lowship of  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.'  Thy 
faithfulness  has  saved  me  from  temptation,  and 
kept  me  from  prevailing  evil,  and  will  '  preserve 
my  whole  spirit,  and  soul,  and  body,  unto  the  com- 
ing of  Christ.'  It  is  in  faithfulness  thou  hast  af- 
flicted me,  and  shall  I  not  trust  thee  to  save  me  ?  *  It 
is  thy  faithful  saying,  that  thy  elect  shall  obtain 
the  salvation  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus,  with  eter- 
nal glory  ;  for  if  we  be  dead  with  him,  we  shall 
also  live  with  him;  if  we  suffer,  we  shall  also 
reign  with  him.' — To  thee,  O  my  Savior,  I  commit 
my  soul;  it  is  thine  by  redemption,  thine  by  co- 
venant; it  is  sealed  by  thy  Spirit,  and  thou  hast 
])romised  not  to  lose  it.  Thou  wast  '  made  like 
imto  thy  brethren,  that  thou  mightest  be  a  mer- 
riful  and  faithful  high  priest  in  things  pertaining 
to  God,  to  make  reconciliation  for  our  sins.'  By 
thy  blood  we  have  boldness  to  enter  into  the  ho- 
liest, by  a  new  and  living  v/ay  consecrated  for  us. 
Oause  me  to  '  draw  near  with  a  true  heart,  in  full 
c  ssurance  of  faith.'  Thy  name  is  faithful  and  true. 
True  and  faithful  are  all  thy  promises.  Thou 
Iiast  promised  rest  to  weary  souls  that  come  to 
tliee.  I  am  weary  of  suffering,  sin,  and  flesh: 
weavy  of  my  darkness,  dullness,  and  distance. 
Whither  should  I  look  for  rest,  but  home  to  my 
(icavenly  Father  and  thee?  I  am  but  a  bruised 
•reed,  but  thou  wilt  not  break  Kie.    I  am  but  srnok- 


Cliap.  v.]  AND   TO    BE    WITH   CHRIST.  115 

ing  flax,  but  thou  wilt  not  quench  what  thy  grace 
hath  kindled.  Thou,  in  whose  name  the  nations 
trust,  *  wilt  bring  forth  judgment  unto  victory.' 
The  Lord  redeemeth  the  souls  of  his  servants, 
and  none  of  them  that  trust  in  him  shall  be  deso- 
late. I  will  wait  on  thy  name,  for  it  is  good ;  I 
trust  in  the  mercy  of  God  for  ever  and  ever.  Tlie 
Lord  is  good,  a  strong  hold  in  the  day  of  trouble, 
and  he  knoweth  them  that  trust  in  him.  Sinful 
fear  brings  a  snare,  but  whoso  putteth  his  trust  in 
the  Lord,  shall  be  safe.  *  Blessed  is  the  man  that 
maketh  the  Lord  his  trust.  Thou  art  my  hope, 
O  Lord  God,  thou  art  my  trust  from  my  youth. 
By  thee  have  Lbeen  holden  up  from  the  womb ; 
my  praise  shall  be  continually  of  thee.  Cast  me 
not  off  in  the  time  of  old  age,  forsake  me  not  when 
my  strength  faileth.  O  God  !  thou  hast  taught  me 
from  my  youth,  and  hitherto  have  I  declared  thy 
wondrous  works.  Now  also,  when  I  am  old  and 
gray-headed,  O  God,  forsake  me  not.  Mine  eyes 
are  unto  thee,  O  God  the  Lord !  in  thee  is  my 
trust,  leave  not  my  soul  destitute.  I  had  fainted 
unless  I  had  believed  to  see  the  goodness  of  the 
Lord  in  the  land  of  the  living,'  even  where  they 
that  live  shall  die  no  more."  The  sun  may  cease 
to  shine  on  man,  and  the  earth  to  bear  us ;  but 
God  will  never  cease  to  be  faithful  to  his  promises. 
Blessed  be  the  Lord,  who  has  commanded  me  so 
gafe  and  quieting  a  duty  as  to  trust  in  him,  and 
cast  all  my  cares  upon  him  who  has  promised  to 
care  for  me ! 


116  WILLINGNESS    TO    DEPART,  [Chap.   V'. 

2.   Hope  also  for  the  salvation  of  God.     Hope 
is  the  ease,  yea,  the  life  of  our  hearts,  which  wouhl 
otherwise  break,  and  even  die  within  us.    Des- 
pair is  no  small  part  of  hell.    God  cherishes  hope, 
as  he  is  the  lover  of  souls.     Satan,  our  enemy, 
cherishes   despair,   when  his  more  usual  way  of 
presumption  fails.    Hope  anticipates  salvation,  as 
fear  does  evil.    It  is  the  hypocrite's  hope  that  pe- 
rishes ;  and  all  who  hope  for  durable  happiness  on 
earth  must  be  deceived.     But  "  happy  is  he  that 
hath  the  God  of  Jacob  for  his  help,  whose  hope 
is  in  the  Lord  his  God,  which  made  heaven  and 
eirth,   which  keepeth   truth  for  ever.''     Wo  to 
me  "  if  in  this  life  only  I  had  hope.    But  the  right- 
eous hath  hope  in  his  death     And  hope  maketh 
not  ashamed.     Blessed  is  the  man  that  trasteth  in 
the  Lord,  and  whose  hope  the  Lord  is."     "  Lay 
hold,  then,  O  my  soul,  *  upon  the  hope  set  before 
thee  ;'  it  is  thy  sure  and  steadfast  anchor,  without 
which  thou  wilt  be  as  a  shipwrecked  vessel.    Thy 
foundation  is  sure,  even  God  himself.     Our  faitli 
and  hope  are  both  in  God.     Christ  dwells  in  our 
hearts  by  faith,  is  in  us  the  hope  of  glory.  By  this 
hope,  better  than  the  law  of  Moses  could  bring, 
we  draw  nigh  unto  God.     We  hope  for  that  we 
see  not,  and  with  patience  wait  for  it.     We  are 
saved  by  hope.    It  is  an  encouraging  grace,  it  ex- 
cites  our  diligence  and   helps  to  full  assurance 
unto  the  end.     It  is  a  desiring  grace,  and  is  an 
earnest  to  obtain  the  glory  hoped  for.     It  is   a 
comforting  grace,  for  '  the  God  of  hope   fills   iii 


Chap,  v.]  AND    TO   BE    WITH   CHRIST.  117 

with  all  joy  and  peace  in  believing,  that  we  may 
abound  in  hope  through  the  power  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.'  Shake  off  despondency,  O  my  soul,  and 
*  rejoice  in  hope  of  the  glory  of  God.'  Believe  in 
hope,  though  dying  flesh  would  tell  thee  that  it 
is  against  hope." 

What  blessed  preparations  are  made  for  our 
hope!  "God  has  confirmed  it  by  two  immutable 
things,"  his  promise  and  his  oath.  "  His  abun- 
dant mercy  hath  begotten  us  again  unto  a  lively 
hope,  by  the  resurrection  of  Christ,  to  an  inheri- 
tance incorruptible,  and  undefiled,  and  that  fadeth 
not  away,  reserved  in  heaven  for  us."  Grace 
teacheth  us,  that  "  denying  ungodliness  and  world- 
ly lusts,  we  should  live  soberly,  righteously,  and 
godly  in  this  present  world  ;  looking  for  that  bless- 
ed hope,  and  the  glorious  appearing  of  the  great 
God  and  our  Savior."  We  are  "  renewed  by  the 
Holy  Ghost,  and  justified  by  grace,  that  we  should 
be  made  heirs  according  to  the  hope  of  eternal 
life.  The  eyes  of  our  understanding  are  enlight- 
ened, that  we  may  know  what  is  the  hope  of  his 
calling,  and  what  the  riches  of  the  glory  of  this  in- 
heritance in  the  saints.  The  hope  which  is  laid 
up  for  us  in  heaven,  hath,  through  the  Gospel, 
brought  life  and  immortality,  to  light.  Having 
liope  toward  God,  we  exercise  ourselves  to  have 
always  a  conscience  void  of  offence,  and  serve 
God  day  and  night.  For  an  helmet,  we  put  on 
the  hope  of  salvation.  Death  is  not  to  us  as  to 
(llhers  which  have  no  hope.  Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ 


118  WILLINGNESS   TO    DEPART,  [Chap.  V. 

and  God,  even  our  Father,  hath  loved  us,  and  hath 
given  us  everlasting  consolation  and  good  hope 
through  grace,  to  comfort  our  hearts  and  estab- 
lish us  in  every  good  word  and  work.  We  must 
hold  fast  the  rejoicing  of  the  hope  firm  unto  the 
end,  and  continue  in  the  faith  grounded  and  set- 
tled, and  not  be  moved  away  from  the  hope  of  the 
Gospel."  "  And  now.  Lord,  what  wait  I  for?  my 
hope  is  in  thee.  Uphold  me  according  to  thy 
word,  that  I  may  live,  and  let  me  not  be  ashamed 
of  my  hope.  Though  our  iniquities  testify  against 
us,  yet,  O  Lord,  the  Hope  of  Israel,  the  Savior 
thereof  in  time  of  trouble,  be  not  as  a  stranger, 
leave  us  not.  We  have  been  showed  the  praises 
of  the  Lord  and  his  wonderful  works,  that  we 
might  set  our  hope  in  God.  Remember  the  word 
unto  thy  servant,  upon  which  thou  hast  caused  me 
to  hope.  If  thou.  Lord,  shouldest  mark  iniquities, 
O  Lord,  who  shall  stand  ?  But  there  is  forgive- 
ness with  thee,  that  thou  mayest  be  feared.  I 
wait  for  the  Lord,  my  soul  doth  wait,  and  in  his 
word  do  I  hope.  Let  Israel  hope  in  the  Lord, 
for  with  the  Lord  there  is  mercy,  and  with  him 
is  plenteous  redemption.  The  Lord  taketh  plea- 
sure in  them  that  fear  him,  in  those  that  hope  in 
his  mercy.  Though  my  flesh  and  heart  faileth, 
God  is  the  strength  of  my  heart.  The  Lord  is  my 
portion,  saith  my  soul,  therefore  will  I  hope  in 
him.  The  Lord  is  good  unto  them  that  wait  for 
him,  to  the  soul  that  seeketh  him.  It  is  good  that 
a  man  should  bolli  hope  and  quietly  wait  for  the 


Chap,  v.]  AND   TO    BE    WITH   CHRI3T.  119 

salvation  of  the  Lord.  It  is  good  for  a  man  that 
he  bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth,  and  that  he  keep- 
eth  silence,  and  putteth  his  mouth  in  the  dust,  if 
60  be  there  may  be  hope." 

God  needs  not  flatter  such  worms  as  we  are, 
nor  promise  us  what  he  never  means  to  perform. 
He  has  laid  the  rudiments  of  our  hope  in  a  nature 
capable  of  desiring,  seeking  and  thinking  of  an- 
other life.  He  has  called  me,  by  grace,  to  actual 
desires  and  endeavors,  and  has  vouchsafed  some 
fore-tastes.  I  look  for  no  heaven  but  the  perfec- 
tion of  divine  life,  light,  and  love  in  endless  glory 
with  Christ  and  his  saints,  and  this  he  has  already 
begun  in  me.  And  shall  I  not  boldly  hope,  when 
I  have  capacity,  the  promise,  and  the  earnest  and 
foretaste  1  Is  it  not  God  himself  that  caused  me 
to  hope  ?  Was  not  nature,  promise,  and  grace 
from  him?  And  can  a  soul  miscarry  and  be  de» 
ceived  that  departs  hence  in  a  hope  of  God's  own 
producing  and  encouraging?  *'  Lord,  I  have  liv- 
ed in  hope,  I  have  prayed,  labored,  suflered,  and 
waited  in  hope,  and  by  thy  grace  I  will  die  in 
hope ;  and  is  not  this  according  to  thy  word  and 
will  ?  And  wilt  thou  cast  away  a  soul  that  hopes 
in  thee  by  thine  own  command  and  operation  ?" 
Had  wealth,  and  honor,  and  continuance  on  earth, 
or  the  favor  of  man,  been  my  reward  and  hope 
my  hope  and  I  had  died  together.  Were  this  our 
best,  how  vain  were  man !  but  the  Lord  liveth, 
and  my  Redeemer  is  glorified,  and  intercedes  for 
me :  and  the  same  Spirit  is  in  heaven  who  is  in 


120  WILLINGNESS   TO    DEPART,  [Chap.  V 

my  heart,  as  the  same  sun  is  in  the  firmament  and 
in  my  house.  The  promise  is  siire  to  all  Christ's 
seed  ;  for  millions  are  now  in  heaven  who  once 
lived  and  died  in  hope  ;  they  were  sinners  once,  as 
I  now  am  ;  they  had  no  other  Savior,  sanctifier, 
or  promise  than  I  now  have.  "  Confessing  that 
they  were  strangers  and  pilgrims  on  the  earth, 
they  desired  a  better  country,  that  is,  a  heavenly," 
where  they  now  are.  And  shall  I  not  follow  them 
in  hope,  who  have  sped  so  well  ?  "  Then,  O  my 
soul,  hope  unto  the  end.  Hope  in  the  Lord,  from 
henceforth  and  for  ever.  I  will  hope  continually, 
and  will  yet  praise  him  more  and  more.  My 
mouth  shall  show  forth  his  righteousness  and  sal- 
vation. The  Lord  is  at  my  right  hand,  I  shall  not 
be  moved.  Therefore  my  heart  is  glad,  and  my 
glory  rejoiceth,  my  flesh  also  shall  rest  in  hope. 
God  hath  showed  me  the  path  of  life  ;  in  his  pre- 
sence is  fullness  of  joy,  at  his  right  hand  there  are 
pleasures  for  evermore." 

3.  What  then  remains,  but  that  in  faith  and  hope 
I  love  my  God,  my  Savior,  my  Comforter,  the  glo- 
rious society,  and  my  own  perfection  in  glory, 
better  than  this  burden  of  flesh,  and  this  howling 
wilderness"?  How  odious  is  that  darkness  and  un- 
belief, that  unholiness  and  disaffection,  that  dead- 
ness  and  stupidity,  which  makes  such  love  seem 
hard  and  unsuitable  !  Is  it  unsuitable  or  hard  for 
the  eye  to  see  the  light  or  the  beauties  of  crea- 
tion, or  for  a  man  to  love  his  life  or  health,  his  fa- 
ther or  his  friend  ?     What  should  be  easier  to  a 


Chap,  v.]  AND   TO   BE   WITH   CHRIST.  121 

nature  that  has  rational  love,  than  to  love  him 
who  is  love  itself?  He  that  loveth  all,  and  gives 
to  all  a  capacity  to  love,  should  be  loved  by  all ; 
and  he  that  hath  especially  loved  me,  should  es- 
pecially be  loved  by  me. 

Love  desires  to  please  God,  and  therefore  to  be 
in  the  most  pleasing  state,  and  freed  from  all  that 
is  displeasing  to  him  ;  which  is  not  to  be  hoped  for 
on  earth.  It  desires  all  suitable  nearness,  acquain- 
tance, union,  and  communion.  It  is  weary  of  dis- 
tance and  alienation.  It  takes  advantage  of  every 
notice  of  God  to  renew  and  exercise  these  desires. 
Every  message  and  mercy  from  God  is  fuel  for 
love,  and,  while  we  are  short  of  perfection,  stirs 
up  our  desires  after  more  of  God.  The  soul  is 
where  it  loves.  If  our  friends  dwell  in  our  hearts 
by  love  ;  and  if  fleshly  pleasures,  riches,  and  hon- 
or dwell  in  the  hearts  of  the  voluptuous,  covetous, 
and  proud  ;  surely  God  and  Christ,  heaven  and  ho- 
liness, dwell  in  the  heart  which  loves  them  fervent- 
ly. And  if  heaven  dwell  in  my  heart,  shall  I  not 
desire  to  dwell  in  heaven  ?  Would  divine  love 
more  plentifully  pour  itself  upon  my  heart,  how 
easy  would  it  be  to  leave  this  flesh  and  world  I 
Death  and  the  grave  would  be  but  a  triumph  for 
victorious  love.  It  would  be  easier  to  die  in  peace 
and  joy,  than  to  go  to  rest  at  night  after  a  fa- 
tiguing day,  or  eat  when  I  am  hungry.  A  Httle 
love  has  made  me  willingly  study,  preach,  write, 
and  even  suffer ;  and  would  not  more  love  make 
me  vvillingly  go  to  Godi    Shall  the  imagination 

11  D 


122  WILLINGNESS    TO    DEPART,  [Chap.   V. 

of  house,  gardens,  walks,  libraries,  prospects,  &c. 
allure  the  desires  of  deceived  minds,  and  shall  not 
the  thoughts  of  heavenly  n:iansions,  converse  and 
Joys,  more  powerfully  draw  up  my  desires?  Can 
I  love  such  a  world  as  this,  where  tyranny  sheds 
streams  of  blood  and  lays  cities  and  countries  de- 
solate ;  where  the  wicked  are  exalted,  the  just  and 
innocent  reproached  and  oppressed,  the  Gospe) 
restrained,  and  idolatry  and  infidelity  prevail  1  And 
shall  I  not  think  more  delightfully  of  "  the  inherit- 
ance of  the  saints  in  light,"  and  of  the  cordial  love 
and  joyful  praises  of  the  church  triumphant? 
Should  I  not  love  a  lovely  and  loving  world  much 
better  than  a  world  where  tliere  is  comparatively 
so  little  loveliness  or  love?  All  that  is  of  God  is 
good  and  lovely.  But  here  his  glory  shines  not 
in  felicitating  splendor.  I  am  taught  to  look  up- 
ward when  I  pray,  "  Our  Father,  which  art  in  hea- 
ven." God's  works  are  amiable  even  in  he'l ;  and 
yet  though  I  would  know  them.  I  would  not  be 
there.  And,  alas  !  hov>^  much  of  the  works  of  man 
are  here  mixed  with  the  works  of  God!  Here  is 
God's  wisdom,  but  man's  foil}- ;  God's  governm.ent, 
but  man's  tyranny ;  God's  love  and  mercy,  but  man's 
wrath  and  cruelty ;  much  of  God's  beautiful  order 
and  harmony,  but  much  of  man's  deformity  and 
confusion.  Here  is  much  truth  and  justice,  but 
how  it  is  mixed  !  Here  are  wise,  judicious  teach- 
ers and  companions,  but  comparatively  how  few! 
Here  are  v/orthy  and  religious  families  ;  but  by 
the  tempta'/ions  of  weaUhj  and   worldly   interest. 


Chfip.  V.J  AND    TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST.  123 

how  full  even  of  the  sins"  of  Sodom,  "pride,  full- 
ness of  bread,  and  abundance  of  idleness,"  if  not 
also  of  unmercifulness  to  the  poor  !  And  how 
few  pious  families  of  the  great  that  do  not  quick- 
ly degenerate  from  their  progenitors  by  error  or 
sensuality  !  Here  are  some  that  educate  their 
children  wisely  in  the  fear  of  God,  and  according- 
ly have  comfort  in  them  ;  but  how  many  are  there 
tliat  train  them  up  to  the  service  of  the  world,  the 
flesh,  and  the  devil ! 

How  many  send  their  children  to  get  sciences, 
trades,  or  to  travel  in  foreign  lands,  before  ever 
they  were  instructed,  at  home,  against  those  temp- 
tations which  they  must  encounter,  and  by  which 
they  are  so  often  undone  !  How  commonly,  when 
they  have  first  neglected  this  great  duty  to  their 
children,  do  they  plead  a  necessity  of  thrusting 
them  out,  from  some  punctilio  of  honor,  or  con- 
formity to  the  world,  or  to  adorn  them  with  some 
of  the  plumes  of  fashionable  modes  and  ceremonies, 
which  will  never  compensate  the  loss  of  heavenly 
wisdom,  mortification,  and  the  love  of  God  and 
man!  As  if  they  might  send  them  to  sea,  for 
some  trifling  reason,  without  pilot  or  anchor,  and 
think  that  God  must  save  them  from  the  waves ! 
And  when  such  children  have  forsaken  God,  and 
given  themselves  up  to  sensuality  and  profaneness, 
these  parents  wonder  at  the  judgments  of  God,  and 
with  broken  hearts  lament  their  own  infelicity,  in- 
stead of  lamenting  their  own  misconduct.  Thus 
families,  churches,  and  kinffdoms  run  on  to  blind- 


124  WILLINGNESS    TO    DEPART,  [Chap.   V. 

aess,  ungodliness,  and  confusion.  Folly,  sin,  and 
.Tiisery,  mistaking  themselves  for  wit,  honor,  and 
prosperity,  are  the  ordinary  pursuits  of  mortals. 
Such  a  bedlam  is  most  of  the  world  become,  that 
he  is  the  bravest  man  who  can  sin  and  be  damned 
with  reputation  and  renown,  and  succesfully  draw 
the  greatest  number  with  him  to  hell.  This  is  thr 
world  which  stands  in  competition  for  my  love 
with  the  spiritual  blessed  world. 

In  this  world  I  have  had  many  of  God's  mercies 
and  comforts  ;  but  their  sweetness  was  their  taste 
of  divine  love  and  their  tendency  to  heavenly 
perfection.  What  was  the  end  and  use  of  all  the 
good  that  ever  I  saw  or  that  God  ever  did  for  my 
soul  or  body,  but  to  teach  me  to  love  him,  and  to 
desire  to  love  him  more  ?  Wherever  I  go,  and 
whichever  way  I  look,  I  see  vanity  and  vexation 
written  upon  all  things  in  this  world,  so  far  as  they 
stand  in  competition  with  God  :  and  I  see  holiness 
to  the  Lord  written  upon  every  thing,  so  far  as  it 
leads  me  to  him  as  my  ultimate  end.  The  emp- 
tiness, danger,  and  bitterness  of  the  world,  and  the 
all-sufficiency,  faithfulness,  and  goodness  of  God, 
have  been  the  sum  of  all  the  experiences  of  all  my 
life.  And  shall  a  worldly,  backward  heait  over- 
come the  teachings  of  nature.  Scripture,  the  Spirit 
of  grace,  and  all  experience  ?  "  O  my  God,  love 
is  thy  great  and  special  gift.  All  good  is  from 
ihee.  Come  into  this  heart,  for  it  cannot  come  up 
to  thee !  Can  the  plants  go  up  to  the  sun  for  life, 
or  the  eye  for  light?    Dwell  in  me  by  the  Spirit 


Chap.  V.J  AND   TO   BE    WITH    CHRIST.  125 

of  love,  and  I  shall  dwell  by  love  in  thee.  I  ea- 
sily feel  that  through  thy  grace  I  love  thy  word; 
thy  image,  thy  work: ;  and  O  how  heartily  do  I 
love  to  love  thee,  and  how  long  to  know  and  love 
thee  more !  And  if  *  all  things  be  of  thee,  and 
through  thee,  and  to  thee,'  surely  this  love  is  emi- 
nently so.  It  means  thee.  Lord.  It  looks  to  thee ; 
it  serves  thee  :  for  thee  it  moves,  and  seeks,  and 
sighs  :  in  thee  it  trusts  ;  and  the  hope,  and  peace, 
and  comfort  which  support  me  are  in  thee.  When 
I  was  a  returning  prodigal  in  rags,  thou  sawestme 
afar  off,  and  didst  meet  me  with  the  caresses  of 
thy  love ;  and  shall  I  doubt  whether  he  that  has 
better  clothed  me,  and  has  dwelt  within  me,  will 
entertain  me  in  the  world  of  love  ?" 

The  suitableness  of  things  below  to  my  fleshly 
nature  has  detained  my  affections  too  much  on 
earth  ;  and  shall  not  the  suitableness  of  things 
above  to  my  spiritual  nature  much  more  draw  up 
my  love  to  heaven  ?  There  is  the  God  whom  I 
have  sought  and  served.  He  is  also  here,  but  veil- 
ed, and  little  known.  There  he  shines  to  heaven- 
ly spirits  in  heavenly  glory.  There  is  the  Savior 
in  whom  I  have  believed.  He  also  dwelt  on 
earth,  but  clothed  in  such  meanness,  and  humbled 
to  such  a  life  and  death,  as  was  to  the  Jews  a  stum- 
bling-block, and  to  the  Greeks  foolishness.  Now 
he  shines  and  reigns  in  glory,  above  the  malice 
and  contempt  of  sinners.  And  I  shall  live  there 
because  he  lives  ;  and  in  his  light  I  shall  see  light, 
I  had  here  some  rays  of  heavenly  light,  but  uu- 
11* 

D 


126  WILLINGNESS   TO    DEPART,  [Chap.  V 

der  what  eclipses,  and  even  long  and  winter  nights. 
There  I  shall  dwell  in  the  city  of  God,  the  hea- 
venly Jerusalem,  where  there  is  no  night  nor 
eclipse.  There  are  heavenly  hosts,  in  whose  ho- 
ly love  and  joyful  praises  I  would  fain  partake. 
[  have  here,  though  unseen,  had  some  of  their 
loving  assistance  :  but  there  I  shall  be  with  them 
of  the  same  nature,  and  the  same  triumphant 
church.  There  are  perfected  souls ;  not  striving, 
like  the  disciples,  who  should  be  the  greatest ; 
not  like  Noah  in  the  old  world,  or  Lot  in  So- 
dom, or  Abraham  among  idolaters  ;  nor  like  those 
that  *'  wandered  about  in  sheepskins  and  goatskins, 
being  destitute,  afflicted,  tormented,  hid  in  dens 
and  caves  of  the  earth  ;"  nor  like  Job  on  the  dung- 
hill, or  Lazarus  at  the  rich  man's  gate ;  nor  as 
we  poor  bewildered  sinners,  feeling  evil  and 
fearing  more.  Should  I  fear  a  darksome  passage 
into  a  world  of  perfect  light  1  Should  I  fear  to  go 
to  love  itself?  O  excellent  grace  of  faith  which 
fore-sees,  and  blessed  word  of  failh  which  fore- 
shows this  world  of  love  ! 

"  And  canst  thou  doubt,  0  my  soul,  whether 
thou  art  going  to  a  God  that  lovcth  thee  ?  If  the 
Jews  discerned  the  g^reat  love  of  Christ  to  Laza- 
rus by  his  tears,  canst  not  thou  discern  his  love  to 
thee  in  his  blood  ?  It  is  not  the  less  precious,  be- 
cause shed,  not  for  ihee  alone,  but  for  many.  May 
I  not  say,  I  live  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God, 
who  loved  me,  and  gave  himself  for  me?  Yea,  it 
is  not  80  much  I  that  live,   but  Christ  liveth  in 


Chap.   V.J  AND    TO    BE    WITH    CHRiaT.  127 

me.  And  will  he  forsake  the  habitation  which  his 
love  has  chosen,  and  which  he  has  so  dearly 
bought?  What  shall  separate  us  from  the  love  of 
God  1  If  life  has  not,  death  shall  not  do  it.  O  my 
soul,  if  leaning  on  Christ's  breast  at  meat  was  a  to- 
ken of  his  peculiar  love  to  John,  is  not  his  dwelling 
in  thee  by  faith,  and  his  living  in  thee  by  his  Spirit, 
a  sure  token  of  his  love  to  thee  ?  Did  his  darkly 
saying,  '  If  I  will  that  he  tarry  till  I  come,  what 
is  that  to  thee,'  raise  a  report  that  the  beloved 
disciple  should  not  die  ?  why  should  not  plain 
promises  assure  thee  that  thou  shalt  live  for  ever 
with  him  that  loveth  thee  ?  Be  not  so  unthankful, 
O  my  soul,  as  to  doubt  whether  thy  heavenly  Fa- 
ther and  thy  Lord  love  thee.  Canst  thou  forget 
the  sealed  testimonies  of  it?  Did  I  not  lately  re- 
peat so  many  as  ought  to  shame  thy  doubt?  A 
multitude  of  thy  friends  have  so  entirely  loved 
thee,  that  thou  canst  not  doubt  of  it ;  and  did  any 
of  them  testify  their  love  with  the  convincing  evi- 
dence that  God  has  done?  x\ro  they  love  itself ? 
Is  ihcir  love  so  full,  so  firm  and  unchangeable  as 
his  ?"  I  think  licavcn  the  sweeter,  because  many 
of  my  old,  lovely,  aftectionate,  holy  friends  are 
there,  and  I  am  the  more  willing  by  death  to  fol- 
low them.  And  should  il  not  be  more  pleasing  to 
think  that  my  God  and  Father,  my  Savior  and 
Comforter  are  there?  Was  not  Lazarus  in  the 
bosom  of  God  ?  And  yet  he  is  said  to  be  in  Abra- 
ham's bosom  ;  that  is,  not  there  alone,  but  as  we 
are  all  to  sit  down  with  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob 


128  WILLINGNESS    TO    DEPART,  [Chap.   V 

in  the  kingdom  of  God.  I  am  often  ready  to  enter- 
tain myself  with  naming  such  of  my  friends  as 
are  now  with  Christ ;  but  in  heaven  they  will  love 
me  better  than  they  did  on  earth,  and  my  love  to 
them  will  be  more  pleasant.  But  all  these  sparks 
are  little  to  the  sun. 

Every  place  I  have  lived  in  has  its  monu- 
ments of  divine  love.  Every  year  and  hour  of  my 
life  has  been  a  time  of  love.  Every  friend,  neigh- 
^jor,  and  even  enemy,  have  been  the  messengers 
and  instruments  of  love.  Every  state  and  change 
of  my  life,  notwithstanding  my  sin,  have  opened 
to  me  the  treasures  and  mysteries  of  love.  And 
shall  I  doubt  whether  the  same  God  loves  me  ?  Is 
he  the  God  of  the  hills,  and  not  of  the  valleys  ? 
Did  he  love  me  in  my  youth  and  heiilth,  and  will 
he  not  also  in  my  age,  and  pain,  and  sickness  ? 
Did  he  love  all  the  saints  better  in  their  life  than 
at  their  death  ?  My  groans  grieve  my  friends,  but 
abate  not  their  love.  God  loved  me  when  I  was 
his  enem.y,  to  make  me  a  friend.  God  will  finish 
his  own  work.  O  the  multitude  of  mercies  to 
my  soul  and  body,  in  peace  and  war,  in  youth  and 
age,  to  myself  and  friends  !  Have  I  lived  in  the 
experience  of  the  love  of  God  to  me,  and  shall  I 
die  doubting  of  it?  I  am  not  much  in  doubt  of  the 
truth  of  my  love  to  him.  I  love  his  word,  works 
and  ways,  and  would  fain  be  nearer  to  him,  and 
love  liim  more,  and  lothe  myself  for  loving  him 
r.o  better.  Peter  may  more  confidently  say,  "Thou 
knovvest  that  J  love  thee,'*  tb.an  I  know  that  thou 


Ckap.   v.]  AND    TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST.  129 

lovest  me;  because  our  knowledge  of  God's  great 
love  is  less  than  his  knowledge  of  our  little  love ; 
and  without  the  knowledge  of  our  love  to  God,  we 
can  never  be  sure  of  his  special  love  to  us.  I  am 
not  entirely  a  stranger  to  myself.  I  know  for 
what  I  have  lived  and  labored,  and  whom  I  have 
desired  to  please.  The  "  God,  whose  I  am  and 
whom  I  serve,"  hath  loved  me  in  my  youth,  and 
will  love  me  in  my  aged  weakness.  My  pains  seem 
grievous !  but  love  chooses  them,  uses  them  for 
my  good,  moderates  them,  and  will  shortly  end 
them.  Why  then  should  I  doubt  of  my  Father's 
Icve  ?  Shall  pain  or  dying  make  me  doubt?  Did 
God  never  love  any  but  Enoch  and  Elijah  ?  And 
what  am  I  better  than  my  fathers?  O  for  a 
clearer,  stronger  faith.  Methinks  Daniel's  title, 
*'  a  man  greatly  beloved,"  should  be  enough  to 
make  one  joyfully  love  and  trust  God,  both  in  life 
and  death.  And  have  not  all  the  saints  that  title 
in  their  degrees?  What  else  signifies  their  mark, 
*'  holiness  to  the  Lord?"  It  is  but  our  separation 
to  God  as  his  peculiar,  beloved  people.  And  how 
are  we  separated  but  by  mutual  love?  He  that  is 
no  otherwise  beloved  than  hypocrites  and  unbe- 
lievers, must  have  his  portion  with  them ;  and  the 
ungodly,  unholy,  and  unregenerate  shall  not  stand 
in  judgment,  nor  see  God,  nor  enter  into  his  king- 
dom. Upright  souls  are  to  blame  for  their  ground- 
less doubts  of  God's  love,  not  for  their  acknow- 
ledging it,  rejoicing  in  it.  or  for  being  solicitous  to 
make  it  sure.     Love  brought  me  into  the  world 


];;0  WILLINGNESS    TO    DKl'ART,  [Chap.  V 

and  furnished  me  with  a  thousand  mercies,  and  has 
provided  forme,  delivered  and  preserved  me  till 
now;  and  will  it  not  entertain  my  separate  soul? 
Is  God  like  false  or  insufficient  friends,  that  for- 
sake us  in  adversity  ? 

I  confess  I  have  by  sin  wronged  Love ;  but  all, 
except  Christ,  were  sinners,  whom  Love  has  puri- 
fied and  received  to  glory.  "  God,  who  is  rich  in 
mercy,  for  his  great  Love  wherewith  he  loved  us-, 
even  Avhcn  we  Avere  dead  in  sins,  hath  quickened 
us  together  with  Christ,  (by  grace  we  are  saved,) 
and  hath  raised  us  up  together  in  heavenly  places 
in  Christ  Jesus."  O  that  I  could  love  much,  that 
have  so  much  forgiven !  The  glorified  praise 
*'  him  that  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins 
in  his  own  blood,  and  hath  made  us  kings  and 
priests  unto  God.  Our  Father,  which  hath  loved 
us.  Lath  given  us  everlasting  consolation  and  good 
hope  through  grace."  I  know  no  sin  which  I  re- 
pent not  of  with  self-lothing,  and  I  earnestly  beg 
and  labor  that  none  of  my  sins  may  be  unknov/n 
to  me.  O  that  God  would  bless  my  accusations, 
that  I  mny  not  be  unknown  to  myself,  though 
some  think  me  much  better  than  I  am  !  "  Who 
can  understand  his  errors?"  Lord,  "cleanse  thou 
me  from  secret  faults  ;  keep  back  thy  servant  also 
from  presumptuous  sins  !  I  have  an  Advocate 
with  thee,"  and  thy  promise,  that  "  if  we  confess 
our  sins,"  thou  wilt  "  forgive  them."  Wherever 
I  have  erred,  Lord,  make  it  known  to  me,  that 
my    confession  may    prevent  the  sin  of  others  : 


Chap.   V.J  AND    TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST.  131 

and  where  I  have  not  erred,  confirm  and  accept 
me  in  the  right.  And  since  an  unworthy  worm 
has  had  so  many  testimonies  of  thy  love,  let  me 
not,  when  thou  sayest  "  I  have  loved  thee,"  un- 
thankfully  ask,  "Wherein  hast  thou  loved  me  ?" 
Heaven  is  not  more  spangled  with  stars  than  thy 
word  and  works  with  the  refulgent  signatures  of 
love.  Thy  well-beloved  Son,  the  Son  of  thy  love, 
undertaketh  the  message  and  work  of  the  greatest 
love,  was  full  of  the  spirit  of  love  ;  which  he  shed 
abroad  in  the  hearts  of  thine  elect,  that  the  love 
ajf  the  Father,  the  grace  of  the  Son,  and  the  com- 
munion of  the  Spirit  may  be  their  hope  and  life. 
By  his  works,  sullerings,  and  gifts,  as  well  as  by 
his  comfortable  word,  he  said  to  his  disciples,  "  As 
the  Father  loved  me,  so  have  I  loved  you,  conti- 
nue ye  in  my  love."  Lord,  how  shall  we  con- 
tinue in  it,  but  by  the  thankful  belief  of  thy  love 
and  loveliness,  desiring  still  to  love  thee  more,  and 
in  all  things  to  know  and  do  thy  will,  which  thou 
knowest  is  my  soul's  desire. 

"  Draw  nearer,  O  my  soul,  to  the  Lord  of  love, 
and  be  not  seldom  and  slight  in  thy  contemplation 
of  his  love  and  loveliness.  Dwell  in  the  sunshine, 
and  thou  wilt  know  that  it  is  light,  and  warm,  and 
comfortable.  Distance  and  strangeness  cherish 
thy  doubts.  "  Acquaint  thyself  with  him,  and  be 
at  peace."  Look  up,  often  and  earnestly  look  up 
after  thy  ascended  glorified  Head.  Think  where, 
and  what  he  is,  and  what  he  is  now  doing  for  all 
his  own  and  once  abased  ;  suffering  Love  \z  now 


J 32  WfLLIACiNESS    TO    DEF^VRT,    <fec.  [Chap.  V. 

triumphant,  reigning,  glorified  Love  ;  and  therefore 
not  less  now  tlian  in  ail  its  tender  expressions  on 
earth."  Had  I  done  this  more  and  better,  and  ys 
I  have  persuaded  others  to  do  it,  I  had  lived  in 
more  convincing  delights  of  God's  love,  which 
would  have  turned  the  fears  of  death  into  more 
joyful  hopes,  and  more  earnest  *' desires  to  be 
with  Christ,"  in  the  arms,  in  the  world,  in  the 
life  of  love,  as  far  better  than  to  be  here  in  a  world 
of  darkness,  doubts,  and  fears.  "  But,  O  my 
Father,  thou  infinite  Love,  though  my  arguments 
be  many  and  strong,  my  heart  is  bad,  my  strengt?i 
is  weakness,  and  I  am  insufficient  to  plead  the 
cause  of  thy  love  and  loveliness  to  myself  or 
others.  O  plead  thy  own  cause,  and  what  heart 
can  resist  ?  Let  it  not  be  my  word  only,  but  thine, 
that  thou  lovest  me,  even  me  a  sinner  !  Say  as 
Christ  to  Lazarus,  "  Arise  V*  Tell  me  as  thou  dost, 
that  the  sun  is  warm,  yea,  as  thou  didst,  that  mv 
parents  and  dearest  friends  loved  me  !  Tell  me, 
as  by  the  conciousness  and  works  of  life  thou 
tellest  me,  that  thou  hast  given  mc  life  ;  that  while 
I  can  say,  Thou  that  knowest  all  things,  knowest  j 
that  I  love  thee,  I  may  infer.  Therefore  I  know 
1  am  beloved  of  thee  !  Thus  let  me  come  to  thee 
in  the  confidence  of  thy  love,  and  long  to  be 
nearer,  in  the  clearer  sight,  the  fuller  sense,  and 
more  joyful  exercise  of  love  for  ever  !  Father, 
into  thy  hand  I  commend  my  spirit!  Lord  Jesus, 
receive  my  spirit.'*  Amen. 

THE  END. 


THE    LIFE 


OP 


REV.   RICHARD   BAXTER 


CHIEFL7   COMPILED  FROM  HIB   OWN  \n«TINOS. 


PUBLISHED  BY    THE 


AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY, 

150   N'ASSAU-STREET,   NEW-YORK. 


T).  Fanshmv,  Priiitcr. 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter  I. — His  early  life  and  conversion. — His  fa- 
ther— early  vices — the  Bible  and  religious  books 
blessed  in  his  conversion — his  early  studies — fee- 
ble health — spiritual  conflicts — sources  of  comfort 
— death  of  his  mother — desire  to  be  useful. ...      7 

Chapter  II. — His  ordination  and  first  public  engage- 
ments.— Preaches  at  Dudley — removes  to  Bridg- 
north—and  then  to  Kidderminster 21 

Chapter  III. — His  labors,  trials,  and  success  at  Kid- 
derminster.— Benefit  of  previous  trials — branded 
as  a  traitor — hardly  escapes  with  life — leaves  Kid- 
derminster and  preaches  to  soldiers  at  Coventry — 
becomes  chaplain  of  a  regiment  under  Cromwell — 
failure  of  his  health — writes  the  Saints'  Rest — re- 
turns to  Kidderminster,  and  remains  fourteen 
years — character  of  his  labors — acts  as  a  physi- 
cian— success  of  his  ministry — various  means  of 
usefulness  employed — his  "Reformed  Pastor" — 
is  consulted  by  Cromwell — writes  his  "  Call  to  the 
Unconverted,"  and  other  works 25 

Chapter  IV. — His  engagements  after  leaving  Kidder- 
AnNSTER. — Visits  London — preaches  to  parliament 
— interview  witlx  the  king — attempts  to  reconcile 


4  CONTENTS. 

the  conflicting  parties— declines  a  bishopric— for- 
bidden to  return  to  Kidderminster — his  interest  in 
missions  to  the  Indians — writes  to  Eliot — great  con- 
cern for  the  conversion  of  the  world — further  un- 
successful attempts  at  reconciliation — is  accused  of 
sedition — preaches  in  London — not  allowed  to  ad- 
dress his  people  at  Kidderminster — is  ejected,  with 
2,000  others,  by  the  "Act  of  Uniformity  " — his  mar- 
riage— the  plague  and  fire  in  London — preaches  in 
his  own  house — acquaintance  with  Judge  Hale.    .    60 

Chapter  V. — His  persecution,  trials,  and  death. — Is 
apprehended  and  cast  into  prison,  where  he  is  kept 
in  great  peace — is  offered  preferment  by  the  king 
of  Scotland — reasons  for  declining  it — is  licensed 
to  preach  again,  under  restrictions — preaches  in 
London — writes  the  "  Poor  Man's  Family  Book," 
and  other  works — great  success  in  preaching — in- 
terrupted by  persecutions— death  of  Mrs.  Baxter — 
feeble  health  and  further  persecutions — commences 
a  "  Paraphrase  of  the  New  Testament"— is  char- 
ged with  sedition  for  writing  it — mock  trial  before 
Lord  Chief  Justice  Jeffries — is  two  years  impri- 
soned— Matthew  Henry's  description  of  his  pa- 
tience— he  is  released  from  prison — preaches  in 
his  own  house — last  sickness — death 82 

Chapter  VI. — His  person,  views  or  himself,  and  ge- 
neral character. — His  person — his  survey  of  his 
own  character,  showing  the  changes  from  his  ear- 
lier to  his  riper  years — character  of  his  prayers — 
of  his  sermons — his  works — his  bodily  sufferings — 
iove  to  souls — walk  with  God 123 


NOTE. 

The  life  of  this  eminent  servant  of  God,  abound- 
ing with  striking  incidents,  and  adapted  to  be  use- 
ful to  all,  is  published  nearly  in  the  present  form 
by  the  Religious  Tract  Society  in  London.  Some 
corrections  of  obscure  phraseology  and  antique  style 
are  here  made,  without  altering  the  character  of  the 
narrative.  The  reader  will  be  struck  with  his  extra- 
ordinary reliance  on  the  efficacy  of  prayer ;  his  abun- 
dant labors  as  a  pastor ;  the  rudeness,  ignorance,  and 
persecuting  spirit  of  the  age  in  which  he  lived  ;  his 
burning  zeal  for  the  spread  of  the  Gospel  at  that 
early  period  of  modern  missions ;  the  great  variety  of 
works  he  was  enabled  to  write,  though  in  a  very  low 
state  of  health  ;  and  the  wonderful  extent  to  which 
the  powers  of  the  mind  may  be  kept  up  by  the  ha- 
bitual exercise  of  them,  even  amid  the  multiplied 
infirmities  of  old  age. 

A  more  full  account  of  the  man,  comprising  a 
description  of  his  voluminous  writings,  may  be  found 
by  the  student  in  "  Baxter's  Life  and  Times,  by  Rev. 
William  Orme-"  2  vols,  octavo. 


I.IFE   OF 


REV.    RICHARD    BAXTER. 


CHAPTER    I. 

HIS    EARLY   LIFE    AND    CONVERSION. 

Richard  Baxter  was  born  at  Rowton,  Sliropshire, 
(England,)  on  the  12th  of  November,  1615.  He  resided 
in  that  village  with  his  maternal  grandfather  till  he 
was  nearly  ten  years  of  age,  when  he  was  taken  home 
to  live  with  his  parents  at  Eaton  Constantine,  in  the 
same  county.  His  father,  he  says,  "  had  the  competent 
estate  of  a  freeholder,  free  from  the  temptations  of  po- 
verty and  riches;  but  having  been  addicted  to  gaming 
in  his  youth,  as  was  also  his  father  before  him,  it  was 
so  entangled  by  debts,  that  it  occasioned  some  excess 
of  worldly  cares  before  it  was  freed." 

The  father  of  Richard  Baxter,  about  the  lime  cf  his 
son's  birth,  became  seriously  impressed  with  the  im- 
portance of  divine  truth,  and  appears  to  have  subse- 
quently become  a  sincere  follower  of  tiie  Redeemer. 
His  conversion  was  effected  chiefly  through  the  instru- 
mentality of  reading  the  Scriptures.  He  had  but  few 
opportunities  of  attending  on  other  means  of  grace. 
Many  of  the  pulpits  were  occupied  by  ministers  igno- 


8  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

rant  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus ;  and  those  who  preach- 
ed the  Gospel  in  its  purity  were,  for  the  most  part,  so 
despised  and  contemned,  that  it  required  no  small  share 
of  moral  courage  to  attend  on  their  ministry.  Convert- 
ed himself,  he  became  anxious  for  the  salvation  of  his 
only  son.  He  directed  the  attention  of  his  youthful 
charge  to  the  sacred  Scriptures,  whence  he  had  himself 
derived  so  much  benefit.  Nor  were  his  instructions 
and  efforts  altogether  vain.  Baxter  thus  ingenuously 
confesses  his  early  sins  and  convictions,  in  his  history 
of  his  own  life  and  times  : 

"  At  first  my  father  set  me  to  read  the  historical  parts 
of  Scripture,  which,  suiting  with  my  nature,  greatly 
delighted  me;  and  though  all  that  time  I  neither  un- 
derstood nor  relished  much  the  doctrinal  part  and  mys- 
tery of  redemption,  yet  it  did  me  good,  by  acquainting 
me  with  the  matters  of  fact,  and  drawing  me  on  to  love 
the  Bible,  and  to  search  by  degrees  into  the  rest. 

"  But  though  my  conscience  would  trouble  me  when 
I  sinned,  yet  divera  sins  I  was  addicted  to,  and  often 
committed  against  r^iy  conscience;  which,  for  the  warn- 
ing of  others,  I  will  here  confess,  to  my  shame. 

"  1.  I  was  much  addicted,  when  I  feared  correction, 
to  lie,  that  I  might  escape. 

"  2.  I  was  much  addicted  to  the  excessive  gluttonous 
eating  of  apples  and  pears,  which,  I  think,  laid  the  foun- 
dation of  that  weakness  of  my  stomach  which  caused 
the  bodily  calamities  of  my  life. 

"  3.  To  this  end,  and  to  concur  with  naughty  boys 
that  gloried  in  evil,  I  have  often  gone  into  other  men's 
orchards,  and  stolen  their  fruit,  when  I  had  enough  at 
home. 

"  4.  I  was  somewhat  excessively  addicted  to  play, 
and  that  with  covetousness  for  money. 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  9 

"  5.  I  was  extremely  bewitched  with  a  love  of  ro- 
mances, fables,  and  old  tales,  which  corrupted  my  affec- 
tions and  wasted  my  time. 

"  6.  I  was  guilty  of  much  idle  foolish  chat,  and  imi- 
tation of  boys  in  scurrilous  foolish  words  and  actions, 
though  I  durst  not  swear. 

"  7.  I  was  too  proud  of  the  commendations  of  my 
instructors,  who  all  of  them  fed  my  pride,  making  me 
seven  or  eight  years  the  highest  in  the  school,  and 
boasting  of  me  to  others;  which,  though  it  furthered 
my  learning,  yet  helped  not  my  humility. 

"  8.  I  was  too  bold  and  irreverent  towards  my  pa- 
rents. 

"  These  were  my  sins,  with  which,  in  my  childhood, 
conscience  troubled  me  for  a  great  while  before  they 
were  overcome." 

His  convictions  gathered  strength,  although  occa- 
sionally resisted.  The  temptations  to  neglect  religion 
were  strong  and  powerful.  The  reproach  cast  on  his 
father  and  others,  who,  for  their  desire  and  pursuit  of 
holiness,  were  contemptuously  designated  "Puritans," 
proved  for  a  season  a  stumbling-block  in  his  path.  Still, 
however,  the  reflecting  mind  of  the  son  led  him  to  dis- 
cern the  difference  between  the  conduct  of  his  father 
and  that  of  his  calumniators,  and  to  conclude  that  there 
was  more  of  reason  and  truth  in  a  life  of  holiness,  than 
in  a  life  of  impiety  and  rebellion  against  the  majesty 
of  heaven.    He  says  : 

"  In  the  village  where  I  lived,  the  Reader  read  the 
common  prayer  briefly;  and  the  rest  of  the  day,  even 
till  dark  night  almost,  except  eating  time,  was  spent 
in  dancing  under  a  may-pole  and  a  great  tree,  not  far 
from  my  father's  door,  where  all  the  town  met  toge- 
ther: and  though  one  of  my  father's  own  tenants  was 


10  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

the  piper,  he  could  not  restrain  him  not  break  the 
sport;  so  that  we  could  not  rf^ad  the  iScripture  in  our 
family  without  the  great  disturbance  of  the  taber  and 
pipe,  and  noise  in  the  street  !*  Many  limes  my  mind 
was  inclined  to  be  among  them,  and  sometimes  I  broke 
loose  from  my  conscience  and  joined  with  them ;  and 
the  more  I  did  it,  the  more  I  was  inclined  lo  it.  But 
when  I  heard  them  call  my  father  '  Puritan,'  it  did 
much  to  cure  me  and  alienate  me  from  them ;  for  I 
considered  that  my  father's  exercise  of  reading  the 
Scripture  was  better  than  theirs,  and  would  surely  be 
judged  better  by  all  men  at  the  last;  and  I  considered 
what  it  was,  for  which  he  and  others  were  thus  derided. 
When  I  heard  them  speak  scornfully  of  others,  as  Pu- 
ritans, whom  I  never  knew,  I  was  at  first  apt  to  believe 
all  the  lies  and  slanders  wherewith  tliey  loaded  them  ; 
but  when  I  heard  my  own  father  so  reproached,  and 
perceived  that  drunkards  were  the  most  forward  in  the 
reproach,  I  perceived  that  it  was  mere  malice.  For  my 
father  never  objected  to  common  prayer  or  ceremonies, 
nor  spoke  against  bishops,  nor  ever  so  much  as  prayed 
but  by  a  book  or  form,  being  unacquainted  then  with 
any  that  did  otherwise.  But  only  for  reading  Scripture 
when  the  rest  were  dancing  on  the  Lord's  day,  and  for 
praying  by  a  form  out  of  the  end  of  the  common 
prayer  book,  in  his  house,  and  for  reproving  drunkards 
and  swearers,  and  for  talking  sometimes  a  few  words 
of  Scripture,  and  about  the  life  to  come,  he  was  reviled 
commonly  by  the  name  of  Puritan,  Precisian,  and  Hy- 
pocrite; and  so  were  the  godly  ministers  that  lived  in 
the  country  near  us,  not  only  by  our  neighbors,  but  by 

*  These  profanations  of  ibe  Lord's  day  were  authorised  and 
encouraged  by  the  royal  proclamation,  called  the  Book  of 
Sports,  set  forth  A.  D.  1618.— See  Life  of  Bishop  Hall,  p.  36. 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  11 

the  common  talk  of  the  multitude  all  about  us.  By  this 
observation  I  was  fully  convinced  that  godly  people 
■were  the  best;  and  those  that  despised  them,  and  lived 
in  sin  and  pleasure,  were  a  malignant,  unhappy  sort  of 
people ;  and  this  kept  me  out  of  their  company,  except 
now  and  then,  when  the  love  of  sports  and  play  en- 
ticed me." 

When  about  fifteen  years  of  age,  "  it  pleased  God," 
he  writes,  '•  of  his  wonderful  mercy,  to  open  my  eyes 
with  a  clearer  insight  into  the  concerns  and  case  of  my 
own  soul,  and  to  touch  my  heart  with  a  livelier  feel- 
ing of  things  spiritual  than  ever  I  had  found  before." 
While  under  this  concern,  a  poor  man  in  the  town 
lent  his  father  an  old  torn  book,  entitled  "  Bunny's 
Resolutions."  "  In  reading  this  book,"  he  observes, 
"  it  pleased  God  to  awaken  my  soul,  and  show  me  the 
folly  of  sinning,  and  the  misery  of  the  wicked,  and  the 
inexpressible  weight  of  things  eternal,  and  the  neces- 
sity of  resolving  on  a  holy  life,  more  than  I  was  ever 
acquainted  with  before.  The  same  things  which  I 
knew  before,  came  now  in  another  manner,  with  light, 
and  sense,  and  seriousness  to  my  heart." 

"  Yet,  whether  sincere  conversion  began  now,  or  be- 
fore, or  after,  I  was  never  able  to  this  day  to  know ;  for 
I  had  before  had  some  love  to  the  things  and  people 
that  v/ere  good,  and  a  restraint  from  sins,  except  those 
forementioned ;  and  so  much  from  most  of  those,  that 
I  seldom  committed  them,  and  when  I  did,  it  was  with 
great  reluctance.  And,  both  now  and  formerly,  I  knew 
that  Christ  was  the  only  mediator  by  whom  we  must 
have  pardon,  justification,  and  life;  but  I  had  little 
lively  sense  of  the  love  of  God  in  Christ  to  the  world 
or  me,  or  of  my  special  need  of  him !" 

"  About  this  time  it  pleased  God  that  a  poor  pedlar 


12 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 


came  to  the  door  \vith  ballads  and  some  good  books, 
and  my  fi\ther  bought  of  him  Dr.  Sibbs'  'Bruised  Reed.' 
Tiiis,  also,  I  read,  and  found  it  suited  to  my  taste,  and 
seasonably  sent  me ;  which  opened  more  the  love  of 
God  to  me,  and  gave  me  a  livelier  apprehension  of  the 
mystery  of  redemption,  and  of  my  obligations  to  Jesus 
Christ." 

"After  tliis,  we  had  a  servant  who  had  a  little  piece 
of  Mr.  Perkins'  works,  '  Of  Repentance,'  and  the 
'Art  of  living  and  dying  well,'  and  the  '  Government 
of  the  Tongnc  ;'  and  the  reading  of  that  did  furtiier 
inform  me,  and  confirm  me.  And  thus,  without  any 
means  but  books,  was  God  pleased  to  resolve  me  for 
himself." 

Various  are  the  means  by  which  God  awakens  the 
soul  to  a  sense  of  its  danger,  and  leads  it  to  the  know- 
ledge and  enjoyment  of  himself.  The  pulpit  and  the 
school,  conversation  and  reading,  correspondence  and 
advice,  have  been  employed  as  instruments  in  the 
hands  of  the  Eternal  Spirit  in  effecting  the  conversion 
of  souls.  To  preaching,  as  the  express  appointment  of 
God,  must  be  ascribed  the  highest  place  ;  but  inferior 
only  to  it  is  the  instrumentality  of  religious  books. 
In  places  where  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel  is  un- 
known or  unattended,  the  distribution  of  such  books 
is  of  the  utmost  importance.  To  such  books  Baxter 
was  greatly  indebted  for  his  conversion  :  and  having 
derived  so  much  benefit  from  tliis  means,  he  ever  after 
employed  it  extensively  among  his  friends,  his  flock, 
and  all  to  whom  his  influence  would  reach.  The  facili- 
ties afforded,  in  the  present  day,  for  the  dissemination  of 
religious  knowledge  are  truly  astonishing;  and  among 
others,  the  efforts  of  Religious  Tract  Societies,  with 
their  millions  of  publications,  should  not  be  overlooked. 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  13 

Many  will  arise  in  the  last  day,  and  acknowledge  that 
their  conversion  was  efiected  by  means  of  these  publi- 
cations. Nor  is  it  the  least  advantage  of  these  institu- 
tions, that  they  afford  an  opportunity  to  persons  in  the 
humblest  circumstances  to  be  instrumental  in  doing 
good  to  their  fellow-creatures.  They  can  give  a  Tract, 
though  they  cannot  deliver  a  discourse  ;  they  can  send 
a  Tract  where  they  cannot  visit  in  person  ;  they  can 
circulate  books  wiiere  they  cannot  engage  in  religious 
conversation.  In  the  formation  of  Baxter's  early  reli- 
gious opinions  and  character,  we  see  the  instrumen- 
tality of  a  laborer,  a  pedlar,  and  a  servant  employed. 
The  sovereignty  of  God  is  clearly  seen  in  the  agents 
and  means  of  salvation.  "  His  wisdom  is  unsearch- 
able, and  his  ways  are  past  finding  out."  "  To  God, 
only  wise,  be  all  the  glory." 

Baxter's  early  education  was  greatly  neglected.  His 
professed  teachers  were  either  incompetent  to  their 
task,  or  suffered  him  to  be  occupied  rather  as  he  chose 
than  according  to  any  regular  plan.  Notwithstanding 
this  neglect  and  irregularity,  he  made  considerable 
progress.  He  rose  superior  to  every  difficulty,  and  in 
due  time  became  qualified  to  enter  the  university.  He 
was  persuaded,  however,  not  to  enter  college,  but  to 
pursue  his  studies  under  the  direction  of  Mr.  Wick- 
stead,  chaplain  to  the  council  at  Ludlow  Castle.  Being 
his  only  pupil,  it  was  expected  that,  through  the  un- 
divided attention  of  his  tutor,  his  proficiency  Avould 
be  greater  than  either  at  Cambridge  or  Oxford.  The 
preceptor  became  much  attached  to  the  pupil ;  but 
being  in  earnest  quest  of  place  and  preferment,  he 
neglected  his  charge.  He  allowed  him  "  books  and 
time  enough,"  but  never  seriously  attempted  to  in- 
struct and  improve  his  mind.  Nor  was  this  the  only 

L.    B.  2 


14  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

disadvantage  attending  his  residence  at  Ludlow,  for 
he  was  thrown  into  gay  and  fashionable  society,  and 
was  exposed  to  the  various  temptations  incident  to 
such  a  situation.  His  religious  principles  were  in  dan- 
ger of  being  corrupted  or  destroyed  by  the  practice  of 
gambhng;  but  he  was  enabled,  by  the  grace  of  God, 
to  escape  the  snare,  and  to  resist  all  subsequent  at- 
tempts to  lead  him  astray.  In  this  situation  he  formed 
an  intimacy  with  a  young  man  of  professed  piety,  but 
who,  at  length,  by  the  seductive  influence  of  liquor, 
became  an  apostate.  At  this  period,  however,  he  in- 
structed young  Baxter  "  in  the  way  of  God  more  per- 
fectly ;"  prayed  with  him,  exhorted  and  encouraged 
him  in  his  religious  course,  and  thus  became  of  essen- 
tial service  to  his  young  friend.  Baxter  remained  with 
his  tutor  about  a  year  and  a  half,  and  then  returned 
home.  At  the  request  of  lord  Newport,  he  took  the 
charge  of  the  grammar  school  at  Wroxeter  for  a  short 
time,  as  the  master  was  in  a  dying  state.  On  his  death, 
Baxter  left  this  charge,  and  pursued  his  studies  and 
religious  inquiries  under  the  direction  of  the  venerable 
Mr.  Garbett,  a  minister  of  Wroxeter. 

The  health  of  Baxter  was  in  a  precarious  state,  and, 
in  the  prospect  of  eternity,  he  became  more  solicitous 
to  improve  his  remaining  days  in  the  worship,  and 
ways,  and  service  of  God.  He  says  : 

"Being  in  expectation  of  death,  by  a  violent  cough, 
with  spitting  of  blood,  &c.  of  two  years  continuance, 
supposed  to  be  a  consumption,  I  was  awakened  to  be 
more  solicitous  about  my  soul's  everlasting  state ;  and 
I  came  so  short  of  that  sense  and  seriousness  which  a 
matter  of  such  infinite  weight  required,  that  I  was  ma- 
ny years  in  doubt  of  my  sincerity,  and  thought  I  had 
no  spiritual  life  at  all.  I  wondered  at  the  senseless 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  15 

hardness  of  my  heart,  that  I  could  think  and  talk  of 
sin  and  hell,  and  Christ  and  grace,  of  God  and  heaven 
with  no  more  feeling.  I  cried  from  day  to  day  to  God 
for  grace  against  this  senseless  deadness.  I  called  my- 
self the  most  hard-hearted  sinner,  that  could  feel  no- 
thing of  all  that  I  knew  and  talked  of.  I  was  not  then 
sensible  of  the  incomparable  excellence  of  holy  love 
and  delight  in  God,  nor  much  employed  in  thanksgiv- 
ing and  praise ;  but  all  my  groans  were  for  more  con- 
trition and  a  broken  heart,  and  I  prayed  most  for  tears 
and  tenderness. 

"  Thus  was  I  long  kept  with  the  calls  of  approach- 
ing death  at  one  ear,  and  the  questionings  of  a  doubt- 
ful conscience  at  the  other ;  and  since  then  I  have 
found  that  this  method  of  God's  was  very  wise,  and 
no  other  was  so  likely  to  have  tended  to  my  good. 
These  benefits  of  it  I  sensibly  perceived. 

"  1.  It  made  me  vile  and  loathsome  to  myself,  and 
made  pride  one  of  the  most  hateful  sins  in  the  world 
to  me.  I  thought  of  myself  as  I  now  think  of  a  detest  ■ 
able  sinner,  and  my  enemy:  that  is,  with  a  love  of  be- 
nevolence, wishing  them  well,  but  with  little  love  of 
complacency  at  all ;  and  the  long  continuance  of  it 
tended  the  more  effectually  to  a  habit. 

"  2.  It  much  restrained  me  from  that  sportful  levity 
and  vanity  to  which  my  nature  and  youthfulness  much 
inclined  me,  and  caused  me  to  meet  temptations  to  sen- 
suality with  the  greatest  fear,  and  made  them  less  ef- 
fectual against  me. 

"  3.  It  made  the  doctrine  of  redemption  the  more 
savory  to  me,  and  my  thoughts  of  Christ  more  serious 
and  clear.  I  remember,  in  the  beginning,  how  benefi- 
cial to  me  were  Mr.  Perkins'  short  treatise  of  the 
'  Right  Knowledge  of  Christ  crucified,'  and  his  '  Ex- 


16  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

position  of  the  Creed,'  because  they  taught  me  how  to 
live  by  faith  on  Christ. 

"4,  It  made  the  world  seem  to  me  as  a  carcass  that 
had  neither  life  nor  loveliness,  and  it  destroyed  that  am- 
bitious desire  after  literary  fame  which  was  the  sin  of 
my  childhood.  I  had  a  desire  before  to  have  attained 
the  highest  academical  degrees  and  reputation  of  learn- 
ing, and  to  have  chosen  out  my  studies  accordingly  ; 
but  sickness,  and  solicilousness  for  my  doubling  soul, 
shamed  away  all  these  thoughts  as  fooleries  and  chil- 
dren's plays. 

"  5.  It  set  me  upon  that  method  of  my  studies,  of 
which,  since  then,  I  have  found  the  benefit,  ihougli  at 
the  lime  I  was  not  satisfied  with  myself.  It  caused  me 
first  to  seek  God's  kingdom  and  his  righteousness,  and 
most  to  mind  the  one  thing  needful ;  and  to  determine 
first  on  my  ultimate  end,  by  which  I  was  engaged  to 
choose  out  and  prosecute  all  other  studies  but  as  meant 
to  that  end.  Therefore  divinity  not  only  shared  with 
the  rest  of  my  studies,  but  always  had  the  first  and 
chief  place.  And  it  caused  me  to  study  a  practical  di- 
vinity first,  in  the  most  practical  books,  in  a  practical 
order  ;  doing  all  purposely  for  the  informing  and  re- 
forming of  my  own  soul." 

"  And  as  for  those  doubts  of  my  own  salvation,  which 
exercised  me  many  years,  the  chief  causes  of  them 
were  these : 

'•  1.  Because  I  could  not  distinctly  trace  the  work- 
ings of  the  Spirit  upon  my  heart,  in  that  method  which 
Mr.  Bollon,  Mr.  Hooker,  Mr.  Rogers,  and  other  di- 
vines describe;  nor  knew  the  time  of  my  conversion, 
being  wrought  on  by  the  forementioned  degrees.  But, 
since  then,  I  understood  thit  the  soul  is  in  too  dark 
and  passionate  a  plight  at  first  to  be  able  to  keep  an 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  17 

exact  account  of  the  order  of  its  own  operations;  and 
that  preparatory  grace,  being  sometimes  longer  and 
sometimes  shorter,  and  the  first  degree  of  special  grace 
being  usually  very  small,  it  is  not  to  be  expected  that 
many  will  be  able  to  give  a  true  account  of  the  time 
when  special  grace  began. 

"  2.  My  second  doubt  was  as  aforesaid,  because  of 
the  hardness  of  my  heart,  or  want  of  such  lively  appre- 
hensions of  things  spiritual  as  I  had  about  things  cor- 
poreal. And  though  I  still  groan  under  this  as  my 
sin  and  want,  yet  I  now  perceive  that  a  soul  in  flesh 
works  so  much  after  the  manner  of  the  flesh,  that  it 
much  desires  sensible  apprehensions ;  but  things  spi- 
ritual and  distant  are  not  so  apt  to  excite  emotion  and 
stir  the  passions. 

'•  3.  My  next  doubt  was  lest  education  and  fear  had 
done  all  that  ever  was  done  upon  my  soul,  and  regen- 
eration and  love  were  yet  to  be  sought ;  because  I  had 
found  conviction  from  my  childhood,  and  found  more 
fear  than  love  in  all  my  duties  and  restraints. 

"  But  I  afterwards  perceived  that  education  is  an  or- 
dinary way  for  the  conveyance  of  God's  grace,  and 
ought  no  more  to  be  set  in  opposition  to  the  Spirit,  than 
the  preaching  of  the  word;  and  that  it  was  the  great 
mercy  of  God  to  begin  wiih  me  so  soon,  and  to  prevent 
such  sins  as  else  might  have  been  my  shame  and  sor 
row  while  I  lived.  And  I  understood,  that,  though 
fear  without  love  be  not  a  state  of  saving  grace,  and 
greater  love  to  the  world  than  to  God  be  not  consistent 
with  sincerity,  yet  a  little  predominant  love,  prevail- 
ing against  worldly  love,  conjoined  with  a  far  greater 
measure  of  fear,  may  be  a  state  of  special  grace.  And 
I  found  that  my  hearty  love  of  the  word  of  God,  and 
of  the  servants  of  God,  and  my  desires  to  be  more  ho- 


18  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

]y,  and  especially  the  hatred  of  my  heart  for  loving  God 
no  more,  and  my  wish  to  love  iiim,  and  be  pleasing  to 
him,  were  not  without  some  true  love  to  himself, 
though  it  appeared  more  sensibly  afterwards. 

"  4.  Another  of  my  doubts  was,  because  my  grief 
and  humiliation  were  no  greater,  and  because  I  could 
weep  no  more  for  this. 

"  But  I  understood,  at  last,  that  God  breaks  not  all 
men's  hearts  alike,  and  that  the  gradual  proceedings 
of  his  grace  miglit  be  one  cause,  and  my  nature,  not 
apt  to  weep  for  other  things,  another ;  and  that  the 
change  of  our  heart  from  sin  to  God  is  true  repent- 
ance; and  a  loathing  of  ourselves  is  true  humiliation; 
and  that  he  that  had  rather  leave  his  sin,  than  have 
leave  to  keep  it,  and  had  rallier  be  the  most  holy,  than 
have  leave  to  be  unholy  or  less  holy,  is  neither  with- 
out true  repentance  nor  the  love  of  God. 

"5.  Another  of  my  doubts  was,  because  I  had,  after 
my  change,  committed  some  sins  deliberately  and 
knowingly.  And,  be  they  ever  so  small,  I  thought,  he 
that  could  sin  upon  knowledge  and  deliberation,  had 
no  true  grace;  and  that,  if  I  had  but  had  as  strong 
temptations  to  fornication,  drunkenness,  fraud,  or  other 
more  heinous  sins,  I  might  also  have  committed  them. 
And  if  these  proved  that  I  had  then  no  saving  grace, 
after  all  that  I  had  felt,  1  thought  it  unlikely  that  ever 
I  should  have  any." 

'•  Tlie  means  by  which  God  was  pleased  to  give  me 
some  peace  and  comfort  were — 

''  1.  The  reading  of  many  consolatory  books. 

"2.  The  observation  of  the  condition  of  other  men. 
When  I  heard  many  make  the  very  same  complaints 
that  I  did,  who  were  people  of  whom  I  had  the  best 
esteem  for  the  uprightness  and  holiness  of  their  lives. 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  19 

it  much  abated  ray  fears  and  troubles.  And,  in  par- 
ticular, it  much  comforted  me  to  read  him  whom  1 
loved  as  one  of  tlie  holiest  of  all  the  martyrs,  John 
Bradford,  subscribing  himself  so  often,  '  The  hard- 
hearted sinner,'  and  '  Tlie  miserable  hard-hearted  sin- 
ner,' even  as  I  was  used  to  do  myself. 

"3.  And  it  much  increased  my  peace,  when  God's 
providence  called  me  to  the  comforiingof  many  others 
that  had  the  same  complaints.  "While  I  answered  their 
doubts,  I  answered  my  own ;  and  the  charity  which  I 
was  constrained  to  exercise  for  them,  redounded  to 
m.yself,  and  insensibly  abated  my  fears,  and  procured 
me  an  increase  of  quietness  of  mind. 

''  And  yet,  after  all,  I  was  glad  of  probabilities  in- 
stead of  full  undoubted  cerlainlies:  and  to  this  very 
day,  though  I  have  no  such  degree  of  doubtfulness  as 
is  any  great  trouble  to  my  soul,  or  procures  any  great 
disquieting  fears,  yet  I  cannot  say  that  I  have  such  a 
certainty  of  my  own  shicerity  in  grace,  as  excludes  all 
doubts  and  fears  of  the  contrary." 

Baxter's  old  preceptor  induced  him  for  a  season  to 
lay  aside  all  thoughts  of  the  ministry,  and  to  become 
an  attendant  at  court.  He  resided  for  a  month  at 
Whitehall,  but  became  so  disgusted  with  the  scenes 
and  practices  of  high  life,  that  his  conscience  would 
not  allow  his  longer  continuance  from  home.  He  says : 
"  I  had,  quickly,  enough  of  the  court ;  when  I  saw  a 
stage-play,  instead  of  a  sermon,  on  the  Lord's  day  in 
the  afternoon,  and  saw  what  course  was  there  in  fash- 
ion, and  heard  little  preaching  but  what  was.  in  some 
part,  against  the  puritans,  I  was  glad  to  be  gone.  At 
the  same  time,  it  pleased  God,  my  mother  fell  sick,  and 
desired  my  return  ;  and  so  I  resolved  to  bid  farewell 
to  those  kinds  of  employments  and  expectations." 


20  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

When  he  was  going  liome  into  the  country,  about 
Christmas  day,  A.  D.  1634,  he  relates  that,  on  meeting 
a  loaded  wagon,  his  horse  fell  on  the  side  of  a  hank, 
by  which  he  was  thrown  before  the  wheel,  which  he 
says  "  had  gone  over  me,  but  that,  as  it  pleased  God, 
the  horses  suddenly  stopped,  without  any  discernable 
cause,  till  I  was  recovered  ;  which  commanded  me  to 
observe  the  mercy  of  my  Protector." 

On  his  return  he  found  his  mother  extremely  ill. 
She  lingered  till  May,  and  then  expired. 

Baxter's  own  health  was  in  a  very  precarious  state ; 
but  he  was  anxiously  desirous  of  doing  good  during 
the  short  time  which  he  supposed  would  be  allotted  to 
him  on  earth.   He  states  : 

"  My  own  soul  being  under  serious  apprehensions 
of  another  world,  I  was  exceedingly  desirous  to  com- 
municate those  apprehensions  to  ignorant,  presump- 
tuous, careless  sinners.  But  I  was  in  a  very  great  per- 
plexity between  my  encouragements  and  my  discou- 
ragements. I  was  conscious  of  my  personal  insuffi- 
ciency, for  want  of  that  measure  of  learning  and  expe- 
rience which  so  great  and  high  a  work  required.  I 
knew  that  the  want  of  academical  honors  and  degrees 
was  likely  to  make  me  contemptible  with  the  most,  and 
consequently  hinder  the  success  of  my  endeavors. 
But  yet,  expecting  to  be  so  quickly  in  another  world,  the 
great  concerns  of  miserable  souls  prevailed  with  me 
against  all  these  impediments;  and  being  conscious  of 
a  thirsty  desire  of  men's  conversion  and  salvation,  and 
of  some  competent  persuading  faculty  of  expression 
which  fiM'vent  affections  might  help  to  actuate,  I  re- 
solved, that  if  one  or  two  souls  only  might  be  won  to 
God,  it  would  recompense  all  the  dishonor  I  might  re- 
ceive from  men !" 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  21 

CHAPTER    II. 

HIS   ORDINATION,    AND    FIRST   PUBLIC   ENGAGEMENTS. 

Baxter  was  induced,  by  the  advice  of  his  friend 
Berry,  to  accept  the  head  mastership  of  a  newly  en- 
dowed grammar  school  at  Dudley,  Worcestershire. 
He  was  the  more  ready  to  accept  this  situation,  as  it 
would  afford  him  an  opportunity  of  preaching  in  that 
unenlightened  neighborhood.  He  applied  for  ordina- 
tion to  the  Bishop  of  Winchester,  which,  after  exami- 
nation and  subscription,  was  duly  administered.  He, 
moreover,  received  the  bishop's  license  to  teach  in  the 
school  at  Dudley.  In  a  subsequent  period  of  his  life, 
he  dedicated  his  treatise  on  "  Self  denial"  to  his  friend 
Colonel  Berry,  whose  character  had  undergone  a  con- 
siderable change.  The  following  passage  from  his 
dedicatory  letter  describes  his  views  and  feelings  on 
entering  the  ministry,  and  his  obligation  to  his  friend 
and  adviser.  "  Y(m  brought  me  into  the  ministry.  I 
am  confident  you  know  to  what  ends,  and  with  what 
intentions  I  desired  it.  I  was  tlien  very  ignorant, 
young,  and  raw.  Though  my  weakness  be  yet  such  as 
I  must  lament,  I  must  say,  to  the  praise  of  the  great 
Shepherd  of  the  flock,  that  he  hath,  since  then,  offord 
me  precious  opportunities,  much  assistance,  and  as 
much  encouragement  as  to  any  man  that  1  know  alive. 
You  know  my  education  and  initial  weakness  Avere 
such  as  forbid  me  to  glory  in  the  flesh  ;  but  I  will  not 
rob  God  of  his  glory  to  avoid  the  appearance  of  osten- 
tation, lest  I  be  proud  of  seeming  not  to  be  proud. 
I  doubt  not  but  many  thousand  souls  will  thank  you, 


22  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

when  they  have  read  that  you  were  the  man  that  led 
me  into  the  ministry." 

"  Being  settled  in  the  new  school  at  Dudley,  I  there 
preached  my  first  public  sermon  in  the  upper  parish 
church,  and  afterwards  preached  in  the  villages  about ; 
and  there  had  occasion  to  enter  afresh  upon  the  study 
of  Conformily  ;*  for  there  were  many  private  Christians 
thereabouts  that  were  non-conformists,  and  one  in  the 
house  with  me.  And  that  excellent  man,  Mr.  William 
Fenner,  had  lately  lived  two  miles  off,  at  Sedgley,  who, 
by  defending  conformity,  and  honoring  it  by  a  won- 
derfully powerful  and  successful  way  of  preaching, 
conference,  and  holy  living,  had  stirred  up  the  non- 
conformists the  more  to  a  vehement  pleading  of  their 
cause.  And  though  they  were  there  generally  godly 
honest  people,  yet  they  were  smartly  censorious,  and 
made  conformity  no  small  fault.  And  they  lent  me 
manuscripts  and  books  which  I  never  saw  before  ; 
whereupon  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  set  upon  a  serious 
impartial  trial  of  the  whole  cause. 

"  In  the  town  of  Dudley  I  lived  in  much  comfort, 
amongst  a  poor  tractable  people,  lately  noted  for  drun- 
kenness, but  commonly  more  ready  to  hear  God's  word 
with  submission  and  reformation  than  most  places 
where  I  have  been,  so  that  having,  since  the  wars,  set 
up  a  monthly  lecture  there,  the  church  was  usually 
as  much  crowded  within,  and  at  the  windows,  as  ever 
I  saw  any  London  congregation  ;  partly  through  the 
great  willingness  of  the  people,  and  partly  by  the  ex- 
ceeding populousness  of  the  country,  where  the  woods 
and  commons  are  planted  with  nailers,  scythe-smiths, 
and  other  iron  laborers,  like  a  continued  village. 

*  To  the  enactments  of  the  established  church. 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  23 

'  "  When  I  had  been  but  three  quarters  of  a  year  at 
Dudley,  I  was,  by  God's  very  gracious  providence, 
invited  to  Bridgnorth,  the  second  town  of  Shropshire,  to 
preach  there,  as  assistant  to  the  worthy  pastor  of  that 
place.  As  soon  as  I  heard  the  place  described,  I  judged 
it  was  the  fittest  for  me;  for  there  was  just  such  em- 
ployment as  I  desired  and  could  submit  to  without  vi- 
olating conscience,  and  some  probability  of  peace  and 
quietness. 

"  But  the  people  proved  a  very  ignorant,  dead-heart- 
ed people,  the  town  consisting  too  much  of  inns  and 
ale-houses,  and  having  no  general  trade  to  employ  the 
inhabitants,  which  is  the  undoing  of  many  large  towns. 
So  that  though,  through  the  great  mercy  of  God,  ray  first 
labors  were  not  without  success  in  the  conversion  of 
some  ignorant  and  careless  sinners  to  him,  and  were 
over-valued  by  those  that  were  already  regardful  of 
the  concerns  of  their  souls,  yet  they  were  not  so  suc- 
cessful as  they  proved  afterv/ards  in  other  places. 
Though  I  was  in  the  fervor  of  my  affections,  and  ne- 
ver any  where  preached  with  more  vehement  desires 
of  men's  conversion,  yet,  with  the  generality,  applause 
of  the  preacher  was  most  of  the  success  of  the  sermon 
which  I  could  hear  of;  and  their  tippling,  and  ill-com- 
pany, and  dead-heartedness  quickly  drowned  all." 

Though  a  friend  to  episcopacy,  yet  the  omission  of 
some  required  ceremonies,  together  with  his  refusal  to 
take  the  "  et  cetera"  oath,  (binding  him  never  to  give 
his  consent  to  alter  the  government  of  the  church  in  par- 
ticulars not  distinctly  defined,)  had  nearly  occasioned 
his  expulsion  from  the  ministry,  and  the  loss  of  his 
Hberty,  if  not,  in  his  weak  and  infirm  state  of  health, 
of  life  itself.  Indeed,  some  of  his  accusers  threatened 
him  with  "  hanging"  if  he  did  not  comply.  God,  how- 


24  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

ever,  in  whose  hands  are  the  hearts  of  all  men,  changed 
the  purposes  and  restrahied  the  malice  of  his  adver- 
saries. He  continued  to  preach  at  Bridgnorth  a  year 
and  three-quarters,  in  the  uninterrupted  enjoyment  of 
liberty,  which,  says  he,  "  I  took  to  be  a  very  great  mer- 
cy to  me  in  these  troublesome  times.** 

He  says,  ''  The  long  parliament,  among  other  parts 
of  their  reformation,  resolved  to  reform  the  corrupted 
clergy,  and  appointed  a  committee  to  receive  petitions 
and  complaints  against  them  ;  which  was  no  sooner 
understood,  but  multitudes  in  all  countries  came  up 
■with  petitions  against  their  ministers." 

"  Among  all  these  complainers,  the  town  of  Kidder- 
minister,  in  Worcestershire,  drew  up  a  petition  against 
their  minister.  The  vicar  of  the  place  they  represented 
as  utterly  insufficient  for  the  ministry  ;  presented  by  a 
papist;  unlearned;  preaching  but  once  a  quarter,  and 
that  so  feebly  as  exposed  him  to  laughter,  and  showed 
that  he  understood  not  the  essential  articles  of  Chris- 
tianity; as  one  that  frequented  ale  houses  ;  had  some- 
times been  drunk,  &c. 

"  The  vicar,  knowing  his  insufficiency,  and  hearing 
how  two  others  in  this  case  had  fared,  desired  to  com- 
pound the  business  with  them,  which  was  soon  accom- 
plished. Hereupon  they  invited  me  to  them  from 
Bridgnorth.  The  bailiff  of  the  town,  and  all  the  feof- 
fees, desired  me  to  preach  with  them,  in  order  to  a  full 
determination.  My  mind  was  much  to  the  place,  as 
soon  as  it  was  described  to  me,  because  it  was  a  full 
congregation,  with  a  most  convenient  temple;  they 
were  an  ignorant,  rude,  and  revelling  people  for  the 
most  part,  who  had  need  of  preaching;  and  yet  had 
among  them  a  small  company  of  converts,  humble, 
godly,  and  of  good  conversation,  and  not  much  hated 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER,  2^ 

by  the  rest,  and  therefore  the  fitter  to  assist  tneir  teach 
er:  but  above  all,  because  they  had  hardly  ever  had 
any  lively,  serious  preaching  among  them.  For  Bridg- 
north had  made  me  resolve  that  I  would  never  more 
go  among  a  people  that  had  been  hardened  in  unpro- 
fitableness under  an  awakening  ministry  5  but  either  to 
such  as  never  had  any  convincing  preacher,  or  to  such 
as  had  profited  by  him.  As  soon  as  I  came  to  Kidder- 
minster, and  had  preached  there  one  day,  I  was  cho- 
sen, without  opposition  ;  for  though  fourteen  only  had 
the  power  of  choosing,  they  desired  to  please  the  rest. 
And  thus  I  was  brought,  by  the  gracious  providence 
of  God,  to  that  place  which  had  the  chief  of  my  labors, 
and  yielded  me  the  greatest  fruits.  And  I  noted  the 
mercy  of  God  in  this,  that  I  never  went  to  any  place  in 
my  life,  among  all  my  changes,  which  I  had  before 
designed,  or  thought  of,  much  less  sought,  but  only 
to  those  that  I  never  thought  of,  till  the  sudden  invita- 
tion surprised  me." 


CHAPTER    in. 

flIS   LABORS,    TRIALS,    A^D    SUCCESS   AT    KmDERMlNSTEH. 

To  this  important  and  interesting  scene  of  labor 
Baxter  was  invited  on  the  9th  of  March,  1640.  His  le- 
gal appointment,  after  laboring  among  the  people  dur- 
ing the  interval,  is  dated  April  5,  1641. 

For  this  station  of  public  and  extensive  usefulness, 
he  had  been  prepared  by  various  painful  and  alarming 
afflictions.  He  says:  "All  this  forementioned  time  of 

L.    B.  3 


26  LIFE    OF    DAXTER. 

my  ministry  was  passed  under  my  foredescribed  weak- 
nesses, which  were  so  great  as  made  me  live  and  preach 
in  continual  expectation  of  death,  supposing  still  that 
I  had  not  long  to  live.  And  this  I  found,  through  all 
my  life,  to  be  an  invaluable  mercy  to  me  :  for — 

"  1.  It  greatly  weakened  temptations. 

"  2.  It  kept  me  in  great  contempt  of  the  world. 

"3.  It  taught  me  highly  to  esteem  time;  so  that,  if 
any  of  it  passed  away  in  idleness  or  unprofitableness, 
it  was  so  long  a  pain  and  burden  to  my  mind.  So  that 
I  must  say,  to  the  praise  of  my  most  wise  Conductor, 
that  time  has  still  seemed  to  me  much  more  precious 
than  gold,  or  any  earthly  gain,  and  its  minutes  have 
not  been  despised,  nor  have  I  been  much  tempted  to 
any  of  the  sins  which  go  under  the  name  of  pastime, 
since  I  undertook  my  work. 

"4.  It  made  me  study  and  preach  things  necessary, 
and  a  little  stirred  up  my  sluggish  heart  to  speak  to 
sinners  with  some  compassion,  as  a  dying  man  to  dy- 
ing men. 

"  These,  with  the  rest  which  I  mentioned  before, 
when  I  spakeof  my  infirmities,  were  the  benefits  which 
God  afforded  me  by  affliction.  I  humbly  bless  his  gra- 
cious providence,  who  gave  me  liis  treasure  in  an 
earthen  vessel,  and  trained  me  up  in  the  school  of  af- 
fliction, and  taught  me  the  cross  of  Christ  so  soon,  that 
I  might  be  rather,  as  Luther  speaks,  '  a  cross-bearer, 
than  a  cross-maker,  or  im poser.'  " 

His  spiritual  conflicts,  too,  were  of  a  distressing  cha- 
racter, and  tended,  eventually,  by  the  grace  of  God, 
to  qualify  him  to  be  an  instructor  of  others,  both  as  a 
preacher  and  writer.  He  says  : 

"  At  one  time,  above  all  the  rest,  struggling  under 
a  new  and  unusual  disease,  which  put  me  upon  the 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  27 

present  expectation  of  my  change,  and  going  for  com- 
fort to  the  promises,  as  I  was  used,  the  tempter  strong- 
ly assaulted  my  faith,  and  would  have  drawn  me  to- 
wards infidelity  itself.  Till  I  was  ready  to  enter  into 
the  ministry,  all  my  troubles  had  been  raised  by  the 
hardness  of  my  heart  and  the  doubtings  of  my  own 
sincerity ;  but  now  all  these  began  to  vanish,  and  never 
much  returned  to  this  day.  And,  instead  of  these,  I 
was  now  assaulted  with  more  pernicious  temptations; 
especially  to  question  the  certain  truth  of  the  sacred 
Scriptures ;  and  also  the  life  to  come,  and  the  immor- 
tality of  tlie  soul.  And  tliese  temptations  assaulted  me, 
not  as  they  do  the  melancholy,  with  horrid  vexing  im- 
portunity ;  but,  by  pretence  of  sober  reason,  they  would 
have  drawn  me  to  a  settled  doubting  of  Christianity. 
"  And  here  I  found  my  own  miscarriage  and  the 
great  mercy  of  God.  My  miscarriage,  in  that  I  had  so 
long  neglected  the  well  settling  of  the  foundations  on 
which  I  rested,  while  I  had  bestowed  so  much  time 
in  the  superstructure  and  the  applicatory  part.  For, 
not  daring  to  question  the  truth  of  the  Scriptures  and 
the  life  to  come,  1  had  either  taken  it  for  a  certainty 
upon  trust,  or  taken  up  with  common  reasons  of  it, 
which  I  had  never  well  considered,  digested,  or  made 
my  own  ;  insomuch,  that  when  this  temptation  came, 
it  seemed  at  first  to  answer  and  enervate  all  the  for- 
mer reasons  of  my  feeble  faith,  which  made  me  take 
the  Scriptures  for  the  word  of  God  ;  and  it  set  before  me 
such  mountains  of  difficulty  in  the  incarnation,  the 
person  of  Christ,  his  undertaking  and  performance, 
with  the  scripture  chronology,  histories,  style,  &c.  as 
had  overwhelmed  me,  if  God  had  not  been  my  strength. 
And  here  I  saw  much  of  the  mercy  of  God,  that  he  let 
not  out  these  terrible  and  dangerous  temptations  upon 


28  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

me  while  I  was  weak  and  in  the  infancy  of  my  faith ; 
for  then  I  had  never  been  able  to  withstand  them.  But 
faith  is  like  a  tree  whose  top  is  small  while  the  root  is 
young  and  shallow;  and  therefore,  as  then  it  has  but 
small  rooting,  so  it  is  not  liable  to  the  shaking  winds 
and  tempests  as  the  large  and  high-grown  trees  are ;  but, 
as  the  lop  rises  higher,  so  the  root  at  once  grows 
greater  and  deeper  fixed,  to  cause  it  to  endure  its 
greater  assaults. 

"  Though  formerly  I  was  wont,  when  any  such 
temptation  came,  to  cast  it  aside,  as  fitter  to  be  abhor- 
red than  considered,  yet  now  this  would  not  give  me 
satisfaction;  but  I  was  disposed  to  dig  to  the  very 
foundations,  and  seriously  to  examine  the  reasons  of 
Christianity,  and  to  give  a  hearing  to  all  that  could  be 
said  against  it,  that  so  my  faith  might  be  indeed  my 
own.  And  at  last  I  found  that  '  Nothing  is  so  firmly 
believed  as  that  which  has  been  some  time  doubted.' 

"  In  the  storm  of  this  temptation,  I  questioned  awhile 
whether  I  were  indeed  a  Christian  or  an  infidel,  and 
whether  faith  could  consist  with  such  doubts  as  I  was 
conscious  of.  For  I  had  read,  in  the  works  of  papists 
and  protestants,  that  faith  had  certainty,  and  was  more 
than  an  opinion  ;  and  that,  if  a  man  should  live  a  god- 
ly life,  from  the  bare  apprehensions  of  the  probability 
of  the  truth  of  Scripture  and  the  life  to  come,  it  would 
not  save  him,  as  being  no  true  godliness  or  faith.  But 
ray  judgment  closed  with  the  reason  of  Dr.  Jackson's 
determination  of  this  case,  which  supported  me  much  ; 
that  as  in  the  very  assenting  act  of  faith  there  may  be 
such  weakness  as  may  make  us  cry — '  Lord,  increase 
our  faith:  we  believe;  Lord,  help  our  belief;'  so, 
when  faith  and  unbelief  are  in  their  conflict,  it  is  the 
effects  which  must  show  us  which  of  them  is  victo- 


LIFE     OF    BAXTER.  29 

rious.  And  that  he  that  has  so  much  faith  as  will  cause 
him  to  deny  himself,  take  up  his  cross,  and  forsake  all 
the  profits,  honors,  and  pleasures  of  this  world,  for 
the  sake  of  Christ,  the  love  of  God,  and  the  hope  of 
glory,  has  a  saving  faith,  how  weak  soever.  For  God 
cannot  condemn  the  soul  tliat  truly  loves  and  seeks 
him  ;  and  those  that  Christ  brings  to  persevere  in  the 
love  of  God,  he  brings  to  salvation.  And  there  were 
divers  things  that,  in  this  assault,  proved  great  assist- 
ances to  my  faith." 

"From  this  assault  I  was  forced  to  take  notice  that 
our  belief  of  the  truth  of  the  word  of  God,  and  the  life 
to  come,  is  the  spring  of  uU  grace;  and  with  which  it 
rises  or  falls,  flourishes  or  decays,  is  actuated  or  stands 
still:  and  that  there  is  more  of  this  secret  unbelief  at 
the  root  than  most  of  us  are  aware  of;  and  that  our 
love  of  the  world,  our  boldness  in  sin,  our  neglect  of 
duty,  are  caused  lience.  I  observed  easily  in  myself, 
that  if  at  any  time  Satan,  more  than  at  other  times, 
weakened  my  belief  of  Scripture  and  the  life  to  come, 
my  zeal  in  every  religious  duty  abated  with  it,  and  f 
grew  more  indifferent  in  religion  than  before.  1  was 
more  inclined  to  conformity  in  those  points  which  I 
had  lalcen  to  be  sinful,  and  was  ready  to  think.  Why 
should  I  be  singular,  and  offend  the  bishops  and  other 
superiors,  and  make  myself  contemptible  in  the  world, 
and  expose  myself  to  censures,  scorns  and  suff.  rings, 
and  all  for  such  liltk^  tilings  as  these,  wjien  the  foun- 
dations themselves  have  such  great  difficulties  as  I  am 
unable  to  overcome?  But  when  faiih  revived,  tlien 
none  of  the  parts  or  concerns  of  religion  seemed  sm:ill ; 
and  then  man  seemed  nothing,  and  the  world  a  shadow, 
and  Cod  was  all. 

"In  the  beginning,  I  doubled  not  of  the  truth  of  the 

L.   B.  3* 


30  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

Holy  Scriptures,  or  of  the  life  to  come,  because  I  saw 
not  the  difficulties  which  might  cause  doubting.  After 
that,  I  saw  them,  and  I  doubted,  because  I  saw  not 
that  which  should  satisfy  the  mind  against  them. 
Since  that,  having  seen  both  difficulties  and  evidences, 
though  I  am  not  so  unmolested  as  at  the  first,  yet  is 
my  faith,  I  hope,  much  stronger,  and  far  better  able 
to  repel  the  temptations  of  Satan,  and  the  sophisms  of 
infidels,  than  before.  But  yet  it  is  my  daily  prayer  ihat 
God  would  increase  my  faith,  and  give  my  soul  a  clear 
sight  of  the  evidences  of  his  truth,  and  of  himself,  and 
of  the  invisible  world." 

Nor  was  Baxter  exempt  from  slander:  his  moral 
character  was  assailed  by  base  and  unfounded  calum- 
nies. These  he  was  enabled  successfully  to  refute.  His 
chief  calumniator  was  obliged  to  confess  that  the 
charges  were  fabrications,  and  to  beg  his  forgiveness; 
which  was  freely  given. 

The  trials  of  ministers  are  frequently  of  a  painful 
character,  but,  like  those  of  private  Christians,  "  they 
work  together  for  good."  They  are  over-ruled,  noi 
only  for  their  personal  benefit,  but  for  the  edification 
of  their  fiocks.  "  If  their  sufferings  abound,  so  do  their 
consolations  also,"  and  that  in  order  to  their  being  the 
comforters  of  others,  2  Cor.  1  :  1-5. 

Baxter  entered  on  his  work  with  spirit  and  zeal ;  nor 
was  he  suffered  to  labor  long  without  witnessing  bless- 
ed results  in  the  conversion  of  sinners  to  God.  At  first 
he  used  to  register  the  names,  characters,  &c.  of  his 
converts ;  but  they  became,  at  length,  so  numerous,  that 
he  discontinued  the  practice. 

He  continued  successfully  discharging  his  ministe- 
rial and  pastoral  labors  for  nearly  two  years,  when  the 
civil  wars  (growing  out  of  a  runture  behVfTn  the  j.jnj:j 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  31 

and  his  parliament)  threw  the  whole  country  into  con- 
fusion. His  situation,  though  he  was  no  partizan,  was 
critical  and  dangerous.  He  was  at  length  advised  by 
his  friends  to  retire  from  Kidderminster  till  public  af- 
fairs should  assume  a  more  peaceable  aspect.  The  im- 
mediate occasion  of  his  leaving,  he  thus  describes  : 

"  About  that  time  the  parliament  sent  down  an  or- 
der for  the  demolishing  of  all  statues  and  images  of 
any  of  the  three  persons  in  the  blessed  Trinity,  or  of 
the  virgin  Mary,  which  should  be  found  in  churches, 
or  on  the  crosses  in  churchyards.  My  judgment  was 
for  the  obeying  of  this  order,  thinking  it  came  from 
just  authority;  but  I  meddled  not  in  it,  but  left  the 
churchwarden  to  do  what  he  thought  good.  The 
churchwarden,  an  honest,  sober,  quiet  man,  seeing  a 
crucifix  upon  the  cross  in  the  churchyard,  set  up  a 
ladder  to  have  reached  it,  but  it  proved  too  short: 
whilst  he  was  gone  to  «eek  another,  a  crew  of  the 
drunken  riotous  party  of  the  town,  poor  journeymen 
and  servants,  took  the  alarm,  and  ran  together  with 
weapons  to  defend  the  crucifix  and  the  church  images, 
of  which  there  were  many  remaining  since  the  time  of 
popery.  The  report  was  among  them  that  I  was  the  ac- 
tor, and  it  was  me  they  sought ;  but  I  was  walking  al- 
most a  mile  out  of  town,  or  else,  I  suppose,  I  had  there 
ended  my  days.  When  they  missed  me  and  the  church- 
warden both,  they  went  raving  about  the  streets  to  seek 
us.  Two  neighbors  that  dwelt  in  other  parishes,  hearing 
that  they  sought  my  life,  ran  in  among  them  to  see 
whether  I  were  there,  and  they  knocked  them  both 
down  in  the  streets;  and  both  of  them  are  since  dead, 
and,  I  think,  never  perfectly  recovered  of  the  wounds 
then  received.  When  they  had  foamed  about  half  an 
hour,  and  met  with  none  of  us,  I  came  in  from  rav 


32  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

walk,  and  hearing  the  people  cursing  at  me  in  their 
doors,  I  wondered  what  the  matter  was,  but  quickly- 
found  how  fairly  I  had  escaped.  The  next  Lord's  day 
I  dealt  plainly  with  them,  and  laid  open  to  them  the 
quality  of  that  action,  and  told  them,  seeing  they  so 
requited  me  as  to  seek  my  blood,  I  was  willing  to 
leave  them,  and  save  them  from  that  guilt.  But  the 
poor  sots  were  so  amazed  and  ashamed  that  they  took 
on  sorrily,  and  were  reluctant  to  part  with  me. 

"  About  this  time  the  king's  declarations  were  read 
in  our  market-place,  and  the  Reader,  a  violent  country- 
gentleman,  seeing  me  pass  the  streets,  stopped,  and 
said,  '  There  goes  a  traitor,'  without  ever  givmg  a  syl- 
lable of  reason  for  it. 

'•  And  the  commission  of  array  was  set  afoot,  for 
the  parliament  meddled  not  with  the  militia  of  that 
county,  Lord  Howard,  their  lieutenant,  not  appearing. 
Then  the  rage  of  the  rioters  grew  greater  than  before. 
And  in  preparation  for  the  war,  they  had  got  th-e  word 
among  them — 'Down  with  the  roundheads;'  insomuch 
that  if  a  sitranger  passed  in  many  places,  tiiat  had  short 
hair  and  a  civil  habit,  the  rabble  presently  cried,  'Down 
with  tiie  roundheads;'  and  some  they  knocked  down 
in  the  open  streets. 

^' In  this  f'.iry  of  tlie  rab!)le  I  was  advised  to  with- 
draw awhile  from  home;  whereupon  I  went  to  GIoii- 
cesltT.  As  I  passed  but  through  a  corner  of  the  sub- 
urbs of  Worcester,  thoy  ihul  knew  me  not  cried, '  Down 
with  the  roundheads;'  and  I  was  ghid  to  spu,r  on  and 
begone.  But  when  I  came  to  Gloucester,  among  stran- 
gers also  tlnit  had  never  known  me,  I  found  a  civil, 
courteous,  and  religious  people,  as  different  from  Wor- 
cester as  if  tlu^y  had  lived  under  another  government." 

"  When  1  hud  been  at  Gloucester  a  month,  my  neigh- 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  33 

bors  of  Kidderminster  came  for  me  home,  and  told  me 
that  if  I  stayed  any  longer  the  people  would  interpret 
it  either  that  I  was  afraid,  upon  some  guilt,  or  that  I 
was  against  the  king;  so  I  bid  my  host,  Mr.  Darney, 
the  town-clerk,  and  my  friends,  farewell,  and  never 
went  to  Gloucester  more. 

"  For  myself,  I  knew  not  what  course  to  take.  To 
live  at  home  I  was  uneasy;  but  especially  now,  v/hen 
soldiers,  on  one  side  or  other,  would  be  frequently 
among  us,  and  we  must  be  still  at  the  mercy  of  every 
furious  beast  that  would  make  a  prey  of  us.  I  had 
neither  money  nor  friends.  I  knew  not  who  would 
receive  me  in  any  place  of  safety  ;  nor  had  I  any  thing 
to  satisfy  them  for  my  diet  and  entertainment.  Here- 
upon I  was  persuaded,  by  one  that  was  with  me,  to  go 
to  Coventry,  where  one  of  my  old  acquaintance  was 
minister,  Mr.  Simon  King,  some  time  schoolmaster  at 
Bridgnorth.  So  thither  I  went,  with  a  purpose  to  stay 
there  till  one  side  or  other  had  got  the  victory,  and 
the  war  was  ended,  and  then  to  return  home. 

"  Whilst  I  was  thinking  what  course  to  take,  the 
committee  and  governor  of  the  city  desired  me  that  I 
would  stay  with  them,  and  lodge  in  the  governor's 
house,  and  preach  to  the  soldiers.  The  offer  suited 
well  with  my  necessities,  but  I  resolved  that  I  would 
not  be  chaplain  to  the  regiment,  nor  take  a  commis- 
sion ;  but,  if  the  mere  preaching  of  a  sermon  once  or 
twice  a  week  to  the  garrison  would  satisfy  them,  I 
would  accept  of  the  offer,  till  I  could  go  home  again. 
Here  I  lived  in  the  governor's  house,  and  followed  my 
studies  as  quietly  as  in  a  time  of  peace,  for  about  a 
year,  only  preaching  once  a  week  to  the  soldiers,  and 
once  on  the  Lord's  day  to  the  people,  not  taking  from 
any  of  them  a  penny  for  either,  save  my  diet  only." 


34  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

The  war  continued  with  unabated  fury  and  severity. 
During  his  stay  at  Coventry  he  was  invited  by  Crom- 
well to  become  chaplain  to  his  troops  which  lay  at 
Cambridge.  This  invitation  he  declined  ;  but  some  lime 
after,  on  learnhig  the  state  of  the  army  and  the  pros- 
pects of  usefulness  among  tlie  soldiers,  at  the  solicita- 
tion of  Captain  Evanson,  he  became  chaplain  to  Colo- 
nel Whalley's  regiment,  and  left  his  quarters  at  Coven- 
try, to  the  deep  and  universal  regret  of  the  residents  in 
the  garrison. 

On  joining  his  regiment  he  writes: 

"I  set  myself,  from  day  to  day,  to  find  out  the  cor- 
rupti(nis  of  the  soldiers,  and  to  adapt  m.y  discourses 
and  conversation  to  their  mistakes,  both  religious  and 
political.  My  life  among  them  was  a  daily  contending 
against  seducers,  and  gently  arguing  with  the  more 
tractable." 

His  '-efforts  to  do  good"  were  unremitting.  His 
time  was  occupied  "  in  preaching,  conference,  and  dis- 
puting against  confounding  errors,"  and  in  directing 
and  comforting  believers  under  the  difficulties  and  pe- 
rils of  the  times.  His  success,  however,  did  not  equal 
liis  expectations:  party  spirit  ran  exceedingly  high; 
the  soldiers  were  divided  in  their  religious  opinions; 
the  camp  afforded  but  few  facilities  for  collecting  any 
considerable  numbers  together,  and  besides,  was  con- 
stantly changing  its  position,  according  to  the  direc- 
tion of  war.  And  probably  his  desire  to  reconcile  their 
religious  differences,  and  to  unite  them  under  one  re- 
ligious discipline,  led  him  more  frequently  to  dispute 
than  to  preacM,  to  dwell  more  on  the  details  and  minu- 
tiae of  the  Gospel  than  on  its  essential  truths;  to  labor 
as  though  they  were  at  peace  and  had  time  for  punc- 
tilios, rather  than  as  being  in  a  state  of  war,  and  in 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  35 

danger  every  hour  of  being  hurried  into  eternity. 
These,  with  other  untoward  circumstances,  contribu- 
ted to  diminish  the  probability  of  success,  but  at  the 
same  time  to  iliuslrate  the  zeal,  the  piety,  and  the  per- 
severance of  the  conscientious  chaplain.  He  v.as  never 
in  any  engagement,  nor  took  part,  personally,  in  any 
contests,  though  present  at  some  sieges. 

After  the  fatal  battle  of  Vvorcesier,  with  health  en- 
feebled by  his  excessive  exertions  in  the  army,  he  vi- 
sited his  old  flock  at  Kidderminster,  and  thence  pro- 
ceeded to  London  for  medical  advice.  His  physician 
directed  him  to  visit  Tunbridge  WeJls,  and  try  the 
efficacy  of  its  waters.  With  this  advice  he  complied. 
His  health  was  in  consequence  improved,  and  in  due 
time  he  returned  to  his  quarters  in  Worcestershire, 
where  the  array  still  lay. 

In  all  his  peregrinations  with  the  army  and  other- 
wise, he  preached  in  most  of  the  churches  in  the  towns 
through  which  he  passed ;  and  no  doubt  can  be  enter- 
tained that  his  earnest,  affectionate,  and  faithful  preach- 
ing was  attended  with  important  results. 

While  staying  at  the  house  of  Sir  John  Cook,  Mel- 
borne,  Derbyshire,  he  was  seized  with  a  violent  bleed- 
ing at  the  nose,  which  so  reduced  his  strength  that 
his  case  Vv'as  considered  almost  hopeless.  His  counte- 
nance was  so  altered  as  scarcely  to  be  recognized  by 
his  most  intimate  friends.  As  soon  as  he  could  re- 
move, he  visited  a  friend  in  Leicestershire,  where  he 
remained  three  weeks  in  an  exhausted  state.  In  this 
state  he  was  invited  by  his  friends  Sir  Thomas  and  Lady 
Rous  to  take  lodgings  at  their  mansion.  Thither  he 
was  conveyed,  and  experienced  the  greatest  kindness 
and  attention.  At  the  end  of  three  months,  having  re- 
covered his  strength,  he  returned  to  Kidderminster. 


36  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

During  this  period  of  sickness  and  retirement  from 
public  labors ;  he  was  anxious  to  be  useful,  and  to  be 
restored,  if  agreeable  to  the  Divine  will,  that  his  use- 
fulness might  be  increased.  He  states  concerning 
himself,  "Being  conscious  that  my  time  had  not  been 
improved  to  the  service  of  God  as  I  wished  it  had  been, 
I  put  up  many  an  earnest  prayer  to  God  that  he  would 
restore  me,  and  use  me  more  successfully  in  his  work. 
And,  blessed  be  that  mercy  which  heard  my  groans  in 
the  day  of  my  distress,  and  granted  my  desires,  and 
wrought  my  deliverance,  when  men  and  means  fail* 
ed,  and  gave  me  opportunity  to  celebrate  his  praise." 

It  was  during  this  affliction  that  he  wrote  his  cele- 
brated work,  "the  Saints'  Everlasting  Rest:"*  a  work, 
the  usefulness  of  which  no  mortal  can  estimate.  It  was 
a  blessing  to  the  age  in  which  he  lived,  and  will  con- 
tinue to  be  so  to  the  remotest  ages  of  time.  Had  he 
lived  only  to  write  this  work,  his  name  would  have 
been  held  in  "everlasting  remembrance." 

His  own  account  of  the  origin  and  progress  of  the 
work  is  interesting.  "The  second  book  which  I  wrote, 
and  the  first  which  I  began,  was  that  called  'The 
Saints'  Everlasting  Rest.'  Whilst  I  was  in  health,  I 
had  not  the  least  thought  of  writing  books,  or  of  serv- 
ing God  in  any  more  public  way  than  preaching;  but, 
when  I  was  weakened  with  great  bleeding,  and  left 
solitary  in  my  chamber,  at  Sir  John  Cook's,  in  Derby- 
shire, without  any  acquaintance  but  my  servant  about 
me,  and  was  sentenced  to  death  by  the  physicians,  I 
began  to  contemplate  more  seriously  the  everlasting 
rest  which  I  apprehended  myself  to  be  just  on  the 
borders  of.    And  that  my  thoughts  might  not  too 

*  Published  by  the  American  Tract  Society, 


LIFE   OF  BAXTER.  37 

much  scatter  in  my  meditation,  I  began  to  write  some- 
thing on  that  subject,  intending  but  a  quantity  of  a 
sermon  or  two,  but  being  continued  long  in  weakness, 
where  I  had  no  books,  and  no  better  employment,  I 
pursued  it,  till  it  was  enlarged  to  the  bulk  in  which 
it  is  published.  The  first  three  weeks  I  spent  in  it  was 
at  Mr.  Nowel's,  in  Leicestershire  j  a  quarter  of  a  year 
more,  at  the  seasons  which  so  great  weakness  would 
allow,  I  bestowed  on  it  at  the  house  of  Sir  Thomas 
Rous,  in  Worcestershire ;  and  I  finished  it,  shortly 
after,  at  Kidderminster.  The  first  and  last  parts  were 
first  done,  being  all  that  I  intended  for  my  own  use ; 
and  the  second  and  third  parts  were  written  afterwards, 
beyond  my  first  intention. 

This  book  it  pleased  God  so  far  to  bless  to  the  profit 
of  many,  that  it  encouraged  me  to  be  guilty  of  all  those 
writings  which  afterwards  followed.  The  marginal  ci- 
tations I  put  in  after  I  came  home  to  my  books ;  but 
almost  all  the  book  itself  was  written  when  I  had  no 
book  but  a  Bible  and  a  concordance.  And  I  found  that 
the  transcript  of  the  heart  has  the  greatest  force  on  the 
hearts  of  others.  For  the  good  that  I  have  heard  that 
multitudes  have  received  by  that  book,  and  the  benefit 
which  I  have  again  received  by  their  prayers,  I  here 
numbly  return  my  thanks  to  Him  that  compelled  me 
o  write  it." 

Anticipating  that  some  objection  might  be  made  in 
respect  to  its  style,  he  says,  in  his  dedication  of  the 
work  to  the  people  of  Kidderminster,  "  It  is  no  won- 
der, therefore,  if  I  am  too  abrupt  in  the  beginning,  see- 
ing I  then  intended  but  the  length  of  a  sermon  or  two. 
Much  less  may  you  wonder  if  the  whole  is  very  im- 
perfect, seeing  it  was  written,  as  it  were,  with  one  foot 
in  the  grave,  by  a  man  that  was  betwixt  living  and 

L.    B  4 


38  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

dead,  that  wanted  strength  of  nature  to  quicken  inven- 
tion or  affection,  and  had  no  book  but  iiis  Bible  until 
the  chief  part  was  finished,  nor  had  any  regard  to  hu- 
man ornaments.  But,  O  how  sweet  is  this  providence 
now  to  my  review  !  that  so  happily  forced  me  to  the 
work  of  meditation,  which  I  had  formerly  found  so  pro- 
fitable to  my  soul !  and  showed  me  more  mercy  in  de- 
priving me  of  other  helps  than  I  was  aware  of!  and 
has  caused  my  thoughts  to  feed  on  this  heavenly  sub- 
ject, which  has  more  benefited  me  than  all  the  studies 
of  my  life  !" 

On  his  recovery  he  received  a  pressing  invitation  to 
return  to  his  old  charge  at  Kidderminster,  which  he 
instantly  and  cordially  accepted.  He  was  devotedly 
attached  to  his  people,  and  considered  himself  bound 
to  resist  all  attempts  to  procure  his  services  in  other 
places.  He  thus  affectionately  writes  to  "  his  beloved 
friends :"  "  If  either  I  or  my  labors  have  any  public  use 
or  worth,  it  is  wholly,  though  not  only  yours ;  and  I 
am  convinced,  by  providence,  that  it  is  the  will  of  God 
it  should  be  so.  This  I  clearl)'-  discerned  on  my  first 
coming  to  you,  in  my  former  abode  with  you,  and  in 
the  time  of  my  forced  absence  from  you.  When  I  was 
separated  by  the  miseries  of  the  late  unhappy  wars,  I 
durst  not  fix  in  any  other  congregation,  but  lived  in  a 
military  unpleasing  state,  lest  I  should  forestall  my  re- 
turn to  you,  for  whom  I  conceived  myself  reserved. 
The  offer  of  great  worldly  accommodations,  with  five 
times  the  means  I  receive  with  you,  was  no  temptation 
to  me  once  to  question  whetlier  I  should  leave  you. 
Your  free  invitation  of  my  return,  your  obedience  to 
my  doctrine,  the  strong  affection  I  have  yet  towards 
you,  above  all  people,  and  the  general  hearty  return  of 
love  whici.  1  find  from  you,  do  all  persuade  me  that 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  39 

I  was  sent  into  the  world  especially  for  the  service  of 
your  souls." 

He  resumed  his  labors  under  great  bodily  weakness, 
"  being  seldom  an  hour  free  from  pain."  He  was  sub- 
ject to  repeated  attacks,  from  which  he  recovered,  ac- 
cording to  his  own  account,  chiefly  through  the  inter- 
cessions and  fervent  prayers  of  his  friends.  "  Many  a 
time  have  I  been  brought  very  low,  and  received  the 
sentence  of  death  in  myself,  when  my  poor,  honest, 
praying  neighbors  have  met,  and,  upon  their  fasting 
and  earnest  prayers,  I  have  recovered.  Once,  when 
I  had  continued  very  feeble  three  weeks,  and  was  un- 
able to  go  abroad,  the  very  day  that  they  prayed  for 
me  I  recovered,  and  was  able  to  preach  on  the  follow- 
ing Sabbath,  and  administered  the  Lord's  supper ;  and 
was  better  after  it,  it  being  the  first  time  that  ever  I 
administered  it.  And  ever  after  that,  whatever  weak- 
ness was  upon  me,  when  I  had,  after  preaching,  ad- 
ministered that  ordinance  to  many  hundred  people,  I 
was  much  revived  and  eased  of  my  infirmities." 

"O  how  often,"  he  writes  in  his  '  Dying  Thoughts,' 
"  have  I  cried  to  Him,  when  men  and  means  were  no- 
thing, and  when  no  help  in  second  causes  appeared ; 
and  how  often,  and  suddenly,  and  mercifully  has  he 
delivered  me  !  What  sudden  ease,  what  removal  of 
long  affliction  have  I  had  1  Such  extraordinary  changes, 
beyond  my  own  and  others'  expectations,  when  many 
plain-hearted,  upright  Christians  have,  by  fasting  and 
prayer,  sought  God  on  my  behalf,  as  have  over  and 
over  convinced  me  of  a  special  providence,  and  that 
God  is  indeed  a  hearer  of  prayer.  And  wonders  have 
I  seen  done  for  others  also,  upon  such  prayer,  more 
than  for  myself:  yea,  and  wonders  for  the  church,  and 
for  public  societies."    "  Shall  I  therefore  forget  how 


40  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

often  he  has  heard  prayers  for  me?  and  how  wonder- 
fully he  often  has  helped  both  me  and  others;  my 
faith  has  been  helped  by  such  experiences,  and  shall  I 
forget  them,  or  question  them  without  cause  at  last  ?'• 

Baxter  relates  several  extraordinary  instances  of  an 
swers  to  prayer,  in  the  recovery  and  preservation  both 
of  himself  and  friends.  He  was  attentive  in  seeking 
such  blessings,  and  in  observing  such  circumstances ; 
and,  as  an  old  divine  justly  observes,  "  they  that  watch 
providence  shall  never  want  a  providence  to  watch.'* 
Having  now  brought  down  Baxter's  life  to  the  period 
when  he  settled  again  amongst  his  old  friends,  and  re- 
sumed his  accustomed  labors,  it  will  be  desirable  to 
introduce,  in  an  abridged  form,  his  own  account  of  his 
"  employments,  success,  and  advantages,"  during  his 
fourteen  years'  continuance  among  them. 

1.  Employments. 

"I  preached,  before  the  wars,  twice  each  Lord's 
day ;  but,  after  the  war,  but  once,  and  once  every 
Thursday,  besides  occasional  sermons.  Every  Thurs- 
day evening,  my  neighbors  that  were  most  desirous, 
and  had  opportunity,  met  at  my  house,  and  there  one 
of  them  repeated  the  sermon ;  and  afterwards  they  pro- 
posed what  doubts  any  of  them  had  about  the  sermon, 
or  any  other  case  of  conscience,  and  I  resolved  their 
doubts.  And,  last  of  all,  I  caused  sometimes  one,  and 
sometimes  another  of  them  to  pray,  sometimes  praying 
with  them  myself.  Once  a  week,  also,  some  of  the 
young  who  were  not  prepared  to  pray  in  so  great  an 
assembly^  met  among  a  few  more  privately,  where 
they  spent  three  hours  in  prayer  together.  Every  Sa- 
turday night  they  met  at  some  of  their  houses  to  repeat 
the  sermon  of  the  last  Lord's  day,  and  to  pray  and  pre- 
pare themselves  for  the  following  day.  Once  in  a  few 


L1F£    Of    BAXTER.  41 

weeks  we  had  a  day  of  humiliation,  on  one  occasion 
or  other.  Two  days  every  week  my  assistant  and  my- 
self took  fourteen  families  between  us  for  private  ca- 
techising and  conference ;  he  going  through  the  parish, 
and  the  town  coming  to  me.  I  first  heard  them  r?cite 
the  words  of  the  catechism,  and  then  examined  them 
about  the  sense,  and  lastly  urged  them,  with  all  possi- 
ble engaging  reason  and  vehemence,  to  answerable  af- 
fection and  practice.  If  any  of  them  were  perplexed 
through  ignorance  or  bashfulness,  I  forbore  to  press 
them  any  farther  to  answers,  but  made  them  hearers, 
and  either  examined  others,  or  turned  all  into  instruc- 
tion and  exhortation.  But  this,  I  have  opened  more 
fully  in  my  *  Reformed  Pastor.'  I  spent  about  an  hour 
with  a  family,  and  admitted  no  others  to  be  present, 
lest  bashfulness  should  make  it  burdensome,  or  any 
should  talk  of  the  weaknesses  of  others.  So  that  all 
the  afternoons,  on  Mondays  and  Tuesdays,  I  spent 
in  this,  after  I  had  begun  it ;  for  it  was  many  years  be- 
fore I  attempted  it;  and  my  assistant  spent  the  morn- 
ings of  the  same  days  in  the  same  employment.  Be- 
fore that,  I  only  catechised  them  in  the  church,  and 
conferred  with,  now  and  then  one  occasionally. 

"  Besides  all  this,  I  was  forced  five  or  six  years,  by 
the  people's  necessity,  to  practise  physic.  A  common 
pleurisy  happening  one  year,  and  no  physician  being 
near,  I  was  forced  to  advise  them,  to  save  their  lives  ; 
and  I  could  not  afterwards  avoid  the  importunity  of 
the  town  and  country  round  about.  And  because  1 
never  once  took  a  penny  of  any  one,  I  was  crowded 
with  patients,  so  that  almost  twenty  would  be  at  my 
door  at  once ;  .and  though  God,  by  more  success  than 
I  expected,  so  long  encouraged  me,  yet,  at  last,  I  could 
endure  it  no  longer ;  partly  because  it  hindered  mj' 

L.    B.  4* 


42  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

Other  studies,  and  partly  because  the  very  fear  of  mis- 
carrying and  doing  any  one  harm,  made  it  an  intolera- 
ble burden  to  me.  So  that,  after  some  years'  practice, 
I  procured  a  godly  diligent  physician  to  come  and  live 
in  tvAvn,  and  bound  myself,  by  promise,  to  practise  no 
more,  unless  in  consultation  with  him  in  case  of  any 
seeming  necessity.  And  so  with  that  answer  I  turned 
them  all  off,  and  never  meddled  with  it  more." 

2.  Success. 

"  I  have  mentioned  my  sweet  and  acceptable  em- 
ployment ;  let  me,  to  the  praise  of  my  gracious  Lord, 
acquaint  you  with  some  of  my  success.  And  I  will  not 
suppress  it,  though  I  forel^now  that  the  malignant  will 
impute  the  mention  of  it  to  pride  and  ostentation.  For 
it  is  the  sacrifice  of  thanksgiving  which  I  owe  to  my 
most  gracious  God,  which  I  will  not  deny  him  for  fear 
of  being  censured  as  proud,  lest  I  prove  myself  proud 
indeed,  while  I  cannot  undergo  the  imputation  of  pride 
in  the  offering  of  my  thanks  for  such  undeserved 
mercies. 

"  My  public  preaching  met  with  an  attentive,  dili- 
gent auditory.  Having  broke  over  the  brunt  of  the  op- 
position of  the  rabble  before  the  wars,  I  found  them 
afterwards  tractable  and  unprejudiced. 

"Before  I  ever  entered  into  the  ministry,  God  bless- 
ed my  private  conference  to  the  conversion  of  some, 
who  remain  firm  and  eminent  in  holiness  to  this  day. 
Then,  and  in  the  beginning  of  my  ministry,  I  was 
wont  to  number  them  as  jewels ;  but  since  then  I  could 
not  keep  any  number  of  them. 

"  The  congregation  was  usually  full,  so  that  we 
were  led  to  build  five  galleries  after  my  coming  thi- 
ther, the  church  itself  being  very  capacious,  and  the 
most  commodious  and  convenient  that  ever  I  was  in. 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  43 

Our  private  meetings  also  were  full.  On  the  Lord's 
day  there  was  no  disorder  to  be  seen  in  the  streets, 
but  you  might  hear  a  hundred  families  singing  psalms 
and  repeating  sermons,  as  you  passed  through  the 
streets.  In  a  word,  when  I  came  thither  first,  there 
was  about  one  family  in  a  street  that  worshipped  God 
and  called  on  his  name ;  and  when  I  came  away,  there 
were  some  streets  where  there  was  not  more  than  one 
family  in  the  side  of  a  street  that  did  not  so ;  and  that 
did  not,  in  professing  serious  godliness,  give  us  hopes 
of  their  sincerity.  And  of  those  families  which  were 
the  worst,  being  inns  and  ale-houses,  usually  some  per- 
sons in  each  house  did  seem  to  be  religious.  Though 
our  administration  of  the  Lord's  supper  was  so  order- 
ed as  displeased  many,  and  the  far  greater  part  kept 
themselves  away,  yet  we  had  six  hundred  that  were 
communicants,  of  whom  there  were  not  twelve  that  I 
had  not  good  hopes  of,  as  to  their  sincerity ;  and  those 
few  that  came  to  our  communion,  and  yet  lived  scan- 
dalously, were  excommunicated  afterwards.  And  I 
hope  there  were  many  who  feared  God  that  came  not 
to  our  communion,  some  of  them  being  kept  off  by 
husbands,  by  parents,  by  masters,  and  some  dissuaded 
by  men  that  differed  from  us. 

"  When  I  commenced  personal  conference  with  each 
family  and  catechising  them,  there  were  very  few  fa- 
milies in  all  the  town  that  rciused  to  come;  and  those 
few  were  beggars  at  the  town's  ends,  who  were  so  ig- 
norant that  they  were  ashamed  it  should  be  manifest. 
And  few  families  went  from  me  without  some  tears,  or 
seemingly  serious  promises  for  a  godly  life.  Yet  many 
ignorant  and  ungodly  persons  there  were  still  among 
us ;  but  most  of  them  were  in  the  parish,  and  not  in 
the  town,  and  in  those  parts  of  the  parish  which  were 


44  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

farthest  from  the  town.  Some  of  the  poor  men  com- 
petently understood  the  body  of  divinity,  and  were 
able  to  judge  in  difficult  controversies.  Some  of  them 
were  so  able  in  prayer,  that  very  few  ministers  equalled 
them  in  order  and  fullness,  apt  expressions,  holy  ora- 
tory, and  fervency.  A  great  number  of  them  were  able 
to  pray  very  appropriately  with  their  families,  or  with 
others.  The  temper  of  their  minds,  and  the  correct- 
ness of  their  lives,  were  even  more  commendable  than 
their  talents.  The  professors  of  serious  godliness  were 
generally  of  very  humble  minds  and  carriage ;  of  meek 
and  quiet  behavior  towards  others ;  and  blameless  in 
their  conversation. 

"  And  in  my  poor  endeavors  with  my  brethren  in 
the  ministry,  my  labors  were  not  lost.  Our  discussions 
proved  not  unprofitable ;  our  meetings  were  never  con- 
tentious, but  always  comfortable.  We  took  great  de- 
light in  the  company  of  each  other ;  so  that  I  know 
the  remembrance  of  those  days  is  pleasant  both  to  them 
and  me.  When  discouragements  had  long  kept  me 
from  proposing  a  way  of  church  order  and  discipline 
which  all  might  agree  in,  that  we  might  neither  have 
churches  ungoverned,  nor  fall  into  divisions  among 
ourselves  at  the  first  mention  of  it,  I  found  a  readier 
consent  than  I  could  expect,  and  all  went  on  without 
any  great  difficulties.  And  when  I  attempted  to  bring 
them  all  conjointly  to  the  work  of  catechising  and  in- 
structing every  family  by  itself,  I  found  a  ready  con- 
sent in  most,  and  performance  in  many.  So  that  I 
must  here,  to  the  praise  of  my  dear  Redeemer,  set  up 
this  pillar  of  remembrance,  even  to  his  praise  who 
hath  employed  me  so  many  years  in  so  comfortable  a 
work,  with  such  encouraging  success !  O  what  am  I, 
a  worthless  worm,  not  only  wanting  academical  ho- 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  45 

nors,  but  much  of  that  furniture  which  is  needful  to  so 
high  a  work,  that  God  should  thus  abundantly  encou- 
rage me,  when  the  reverend  instructors  of  my  youth 
labored  fifty  years  together  in  one  place,  and  could 
scarcely  say  they  had  been  instrumental  in  the  con- 
version of  even  one  or  two  of  their  hearers.  And  the 
greater  was  this  mercy,  because  I  was  naturally  of  a 
desponding  spirit ;  so  that  if  I  had  preached  one  year, 
and  seen  no  fruits  of  it,  I  should  hardly  have  forborne 
running  away  like  Jonah,  but  should  have  thought 
that  God  called  me  not  to  that  place." 

3.  Advantages. 

"  Having  related  my  encouraging  successes  in  this 
place,  I  shall  next  tell  you  by  what  and  how  many 
advantages  so  much  was  effected,  under  that  grace 
which  worketh  by  means,  though  with  a  free  diversi- 
ty ;  which  I  do  for  the  help  of  others  in  managing  ig- 
norant and  sinful  people. 

"  One  advantage  was,  that  I  came  to  a  people  that 
never  had  any  awakening  ministry  before.  For  if  they 
had  been  hardened  under  a  powerful  ministry,  and 
been  sermon  proof,  I  should  have  expected  less. 

"  Another  advantage  was,  that  at  first  I  was  in  the 
vigor  of  my  spirits,  and  had  naturally  a  familiar  mov- 
ing voice,  which  is  a  great  matter  with  the  common 
hearers ;  and  doing  all  in  bodily  weakness,  as  a  dying 
man,  my  soul  was  the  more  easily  brought  to  serious- 
ness, and  to  preach  as  a  dying  man  to  dying  men ;  for 
drowsy  formality  does  but  stupify  the  hearers  and 
rock  them  asleep.  It  must  be  serious  preaching  which 
makes  men  serious  in  hearing  and  obeying  it." 

"  Another  advantage  which  I  had  was,  the  accepta- 
tion of  my  person.  Though  to  win  estimation  and 
love  to  ourselves  only,  be  an  end  that  none  but  proud 


46  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

men  and  hypocrites  intend,  yet  it  is  most  certain  that 
the  acceptableness  of  the  person  ingratiates  the  message, 
and  greatly  prepares  the  people  to  receive  the  truth. 
Had  they  taken  me  to  be  ignorant,  erroneous,  scanda- 
lous, worldly,  self-seeking,  or  such  like,  I  could  have 
expected  small  success  among  them. 

"  Another  advantage  which  I  had  was  through  the 
zeal  and  diligence  of  the  godly  people  of  the  place,  who 
thirsted  after  the  salvation  of  their  neighbors,  and  were, 
in  private,  my  assistants ;  and  being  dispersed  through 
the  town,  they  were  ready,  in  almost  all  companies, 
to  repress  seducing  words,  and  to  justify  godliness,  and 
convince,  reprove,  and  exhort  men  according  to  their 
needs ;  and  also  to  teach  them  how  to  pray,  and  to 
help  them  to  sanctify  the  Lord's  day.  Those  people 
that  had  none  in  their  families  who  could  pray  or  re- 
peat the  sermons,  went  to  the  houses  of  their  neigh- 
bors who  could  do  it,  and  joined  with  them ;  so  that 
some  houses  of  the  ablest  men  in  each  street  were  filled 
with  them  that  could  do  nothing  or  little  in  their  own. 

"  And  the  holy,  humble,  blameless  lives  of  the  reli- 
gious was  a  great  advantage  to  me.  The  malicious  peo- 
ple could  not  say.  Your  professors  here  are  as  proud 
and  covetous  as  any.  But  the  blameless  lives  of  godly 
people  shamed  opposers,  and  put  to  silence  the  igno- 
rance of  foolish  men,  and  many  were  won  by  their 
good  conversation." 

"  Our  private  meetings  were  a  marvellous'  help  to 
the  propagating  of  godliness  among  them  ;  for  thereby 
truths  that  slipped  away  were  recalled,  and  the  seri- 
ousness of  the  people's  minds  renewed,  and  good  de 
sires  cherished  ;  and  liereby  their  knowledge  was  much 
increased ;  and  here  the  younger  Christians  learned 
to  pray,  by  frequently  hearing  others.  And  here  I  had 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  47 

Opportunity  to  know  their  case ;  for  if  any  were  touch- 
ed and  awakened  in  public,  I  would  presently  see  them 
drop  in  to  our  private  meetings." 

"  Another  furtherance  of  my  work  was  the  works 
which  I  wrote  and  distributed  among  them.  Of  some 
small  books  I  gave  each  family  one,  which  came  to 
about  eight  hundred ;  of  the  larger  I  gave  fewer  ;  and 
to  every  family  that  was  poor,  and  had  not  a  Bible,  I 
gave  a  Bible.  I  had  found,  myself,  the  benefit  of  read- 
ing to  be  so  great,  that  I  could  not  but  think  it  would 
be  profitable  to  others. 

"  And  it  was  a  great  advantage  to  me,  that  my  neigh- 
bors were  of  such  a  trade  as  allowed  them  time  enough 
to  read  or  talk  of  holy  things  ;  for  the  town  liveth  upon 
the  weaving  of  Kidderminster  stuffs,  and  as  they  stand 
in  their  loom  they  can  set  a  book  before  them,  or  edify 
one  another." 

"  And  I  found  that  my  single  life  afforded  me  much 
advantage ;  for  I  could  the  more  easily  take  my  people 
for  my  children,  and  think  all  that  I  had  too  little  for 
them,  in  that  I  had  no  children  of  my  own  to  tempt 
me  to  another  way  of  using  it.  And  being  discharged 
from  the  most  of  family  cares,  keeping  but  one  ser- 
vant, I  had  the  more  time  and  liberty  for  the  labors  of 
my  calling, 

'•  And  God  made  use  of  my  practice  of  physic  among 
them  as  a  very  great  advantage  to  my  ministry ;  for 
they  that  cared  not  for  their  souls,  loved  their  lives 
and  cared  for  their  bodies.  And  by  this  they  were 
made  almost  as  observant  as  a  tenant  is  of  his  land- 
lord. Sometimes  I  could  see  before  me  in  the  church 
a  very  considerable  part  of  the  congregation,  whose 
lives  God  had  made  me  a  means  to  save,  or  to  recover 


48  LIFE    OF    BAXTER^ 

their  health  ;  and  doing  it  for  nothing,  so  obliged  them, 
that  they  would  readily  hear  me. 

"And  it  was  a  great  advantage  to  me,  that  there 
were  at  last  few  that  were  bad,  who  had  not  some  of 
their  own  relations  converted.  Many  children  were 
subjects  of  God's  grace  at  fourteen,  or  fifteen,  or  sixteen 
years  of  age;  and  this  did  marvellously  reconcile  the 
minds  of  their  parents  to  godliness.  They  that  would 
not  hear  me,  would  hear  their  own  children.  They 
that  before  could  have  talked  against  godliness,  would 
not  hear  it  spoken  against  when  it  was  their  children's 
case.  Many  that  would  not  be  brought  to  it  themselves, 
were  gratified  that  they  had  intelligent  religious  chil- 
dren. And  we  had  some  persons  near  eighty  years  of 
age,  who  are,  I  hope,  in  heaven,  and  the  conversion  of 
their  own  children  was  the  chief  means  to  overcome 
their  prejudice,  and  old  customs,  and  conceits. 

"  And  God  made  great  use  of  sickness  to  do  good  to 
man)\  For  though  sick-bed  promises  are  usually  soon 
forgotten,  yet  was  it  otherwise  with  many  among  us ; 
and  as  soon  as  they  were  recovered,  they  first  came 
to  our  private  meetings,  and  so  kept  in  a  learning  state, 
till  further  fruits  of  piety  appeared." 

"  Another  of  my  great  advantages  was,  the  true 
worth  and  unanimity  of  the  honest  ministers  of  the 
country  round  about  us,  who  associated  in  a  way  of 
concord  with  us.  Their  preaching  was  powerful  and 
sober;  their  spirits  peaceable  and  meek,  disowning  the 
treasons  and  iniquities  of  the  times,  as  well  as  we ;  they 
were  wholly  devoted  to  the  winning  of  souls ;  self- 
denying,  and  of  most  blameless  lives ;  evil  spoken  of 
by  no  sober  men,  but  greatly  beloved  by  their  own 
people  and  all  that  knew  them ;  adhering  to  no  fac- 
tion J  neither  Episcopal,  Presbyterian,  nor  Independ- 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  49 

ent,  as  to  parties ;  but  desiring  union,  and  loving  that 
which  is  good,  in  all." 

"  Another  great  help  to  my  success  at  last,  was  the 
before  described  work  of  personal  conference  with 
every  family  apart,  and  catechising  and  instructing 
them.  That  which  was  spoken  to  them  personally, 
and  sometimes  drew  forth  their  answers,  awakened 
their  attention,  and  was  more  easily  applied  than  pub- 
lic preaching,  and  seemed  to  do  much  more  upon  them. 

"  And  the  exercise  of  church  discipline  was  no  small 
furtherance  of  the  people's  good  5  for  I  found  plainly, 
that  without  it  I  could  not  have  kept  the  more  spiritual 
from  separations  and  divisions.  There  is  something 
generally  in  their  dispositions  which  inclines  them  to 
separate  from  open  ungodly  sinners,  as  men  of  ano- 
ther nature  and  society ;  and  if  they  had  not  seen  me 
do  something  reasonable  for  a  regular  separation  of  the 
notorious  obstinate  sinners  from  the  rest,  they  would 
have  withdrawn  themselves  irregularly ;  and  it  would 
not  have  been  in  my  power  to  satisfy  them." 

"  Another  means  of  success  was,  directing  my  in 
structions  to  them  in  a  suitableness  to  the  main  end, 
and  yet  so  as  might  suit  their  dispositions  and  diseases. 
I  d.aily  opened  to  them,  and  with  the  greatest  impor- 
tunity labored  to  imprint  upon  their  minds  the  great 
fundamental  principles  of  Christianity,  even  a  right 
knowledge  and  belief  of,  and  subjection  and  love  to 
God  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost ;  and 
love  to  all  men,  and  concord  with  the  church  and  one 
another.  I  daily  so  inculcated  the  knowledge  of  God 
our  Creator,  Redeemer,  and  Sanctifier,  and  love  and 
obedience  to  God,  and  unity  with  the  spiritual  church, 
and  love  to  men,  and  hope  of  life  eternal,  that  these 
were  the  matter  of  their  daily  thoughts  and  discourses, 

L.    B.  5 


50  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

and  indeed  their  religion.  And  yet  I  usually  put  some- 
thing in  my  sermon  which  was  above  their  own  dis- 
covery, and  which  they  had  not  known  before ;  and 
this  I  did,  that  they  might  be  kept  humble,  and  still 
perceive  their  ignorance,  and.be  willing  to  keep  in  a 
learning  state.  And  I  did  this  also  to  increase  their 
knowledge  and  make  religion  pleasant  to  them,  by  a 
daily  addition  to  their  former  light,  and  to  draw  them 
on  with  desire  and  deligiit.  But  these  tilings  which 
they  did  not  know  before,  were  not  unprofitable  con- 
troversies, which  tended  not  to  edification,  nor  novel- 
ties in  doctrine,  contrary  to  tlie  universal  church;  but 
either  such  points  as  tended  to  illustrate  the  great  doc- 
trines before-mentioned,  or  usually  about  the  right  me- 
thodizing of  them  ;  as  the  opening  of  ihe  true  and  pro- 
fitable method  of  the  creed  or  doctrine  of  faith,  the  Lord's 
prayer  or  matter  of  our  desires,  and  the  ten  command- 
ments or  law  of  practice ;  which  afford  matter  to  add 
to  the  knowledge  of  most  professors  of  religion  a  long 
lime.  And  when  that  is  done,  they  must  be  led  on  still 
further,  by  degrees,  as  they  are  capable ;  but  so  as  not 
to  leave  the  weak  behind  ;  and  so  as  shall  still  be  truly 
subservient  to  the  great  points  of  faith,  hope,  and  love, 
holiness  and  unity,  which  must  be  still  inculcated  as 
the  beginning  and  the  end  of  all." 

"  And  it  much  furthered  my  success,  that  I  stayed 
still  in  this  one  place  near  two  years  before  the  wars, 
and  above  fourteen  years  after;  for  he  that  removeth 
often  from  place  to  place,  may  sow  good  seed  in  many 
places,  but  is  not  likely  to  see  much  fruit  in  any,  un- 
less some  other  skillful  hand  shall  follow  him  to  water 
it.  It  was  a  great  advantage  to  me  to  have  almost  all 
the  religious  people  of  the  place  of  my  own  instruct- 
ing and  informing ;  and  that  they  were  not  formed 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  61 

into  erroneous  and  factious  principles  before ;  and  that 
I  stayed  to  see  them  grown  up  to  some  confirmedness 
and  maturity." 

These  passages  strikingly  depict  the  means  and  ef- 
fects of  a  revival  of  religion.  Only  let  love  to  the  Re- 
deemer burn  with  quenchless  ardor  in  the  breast,  and 
eternity  with  its  tremendous  and  unutterable  conse- 
quences be  distinctly  realized  ;  compassion  to  immor- 
tal spirits  infuse  its  tenderness  and  solicitude  through- 
out the  soul ;  a  deep  and  unfailing  sense  of  ministerial 
responsibility  rest  upon  the  conscience ;  then  all  the 
powers,  talents,  and  influence  that  can  be  commanded, 
will  be  brought  into  exercise,  and  made  to  bear  with 
unceasing  energy  on  the  great  work  of  saving  immor- 
tal souls,  and  then  the  Lord  will  command  his  "  bless- 
ing, even  life  for  evermore." 

The  secret  of  Baxter's  success,  perhaps,  consisted 
prominently  in  the  zeal,  affection,  and  perseverance  he 
displayed  in  following  his  people  to  their  homes.  His 
visits  from  house  to  house  were  for  the  purpose  of  ap- 
plying with  more  close  and  pungent  force  the  truths 
which  were  taught  from  the  pulpit,  or  learned  in  the 
systematic  instructions  which  were  given  to  families 
and  to  children.  And  it  is  remarkable  that  his  success 
in  the  earliest  period  of  his  ministry  was  chiefly 
amongst  the  young.  In  the  preface  to  his  work  enti- 
tled "  Compassionate  Counsel  to  all  Young  Men,"  &c. 
he  observes—"  At  Kidderminster,  where  God  most 
blessed  my  labors,  my  first  and  greatest  success  was 
with  the  youth :  and  what  was  a  marvellous  way  of 
divine  mercy,  when  God  had  touched  the  hearts  of 
young  people,  and  brought  them  to  the  love  and  obedi- 
ence of  the  truth,  the  parents  and  grand-parents  who 
had  grown  old  in  an  ignorant  and  worldly  state,  embrac- 


52  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

ed  religion,  led  by  the  love  of  their  children,  whom 
they  perceived  to  be  made,  by  it,  much  wiser  and  bet- 
ter, and  more  dutiful  to  them."—"  By  much  experience 
I  have  been  made  more  sensible  of  the  necessity  of 
■warning  and  instructing  youth,  than  I  was  before. 
Many  say  reports  have  taught  it  to  me  :  the  sad  com- 
plaints of  mournful  parents  have  taught  it  me;  the 
sad  observation  of  the  willful  impenitence  of  some  of 
my  acquaintance  tells  it  me;  the  many  scores,  if  not 
hundreds  of  bills,  that  have  been  publicly  put  up  to  me 
to  pray  for  wicked  and  obstinate  children,  have  told  it 
me;  and,  by  the  grace  of  God,  the  penitent  confes- 
sions, lamentations,  and  restitutions  of  many  converts, 
have  made  me  more  particularly  acquainted  with  their 
case;  which  moved  me  for  a  time,  on  my  Thursday's 
lecture,  the  first  of  every  month,  to  speak  to  youth 
and  those  that  educate  them." 

The  religious  education  of  youth  is  of  infinite  im- 
portance to  families  and  to  a  nation,  to  the  church 
and  the  world. 

The  youthful  members  of  his  congregation  should 
engage  the  anxious  attention  of  every  pastor.  They 
are  the  hopes  of  his  ministry.  With  them  truth  meets 
the  readiest  reception.  Among  them  conversion  most 
frequently  takes  place.  From  them  the  most  valuable 
members  of  Christian  society  are  obtained.  Rising 
into  life,  their  influence  is  exerted  wholly  on  the  side 
of  truth  and  piety  ;  and  when  more  matured  in  years, 
their  instructions  and  example  benefit  and  bless  their 
families,  their  connexions,  and  the  world.  The  con- 
version of  a  soul  in  the  period  of  youth  prevents  its 
entering  on  a  course  of  sin,  engages  it  to  the  practice 
of  holiness,  ensures  the  exertion  of  its  influence  in  be- 
half of  God  and  his  cause  through  the  whole  of  its 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  53 

earthly  being ;  and  thus  a  career  of  happiness  begins 
which  shall  '.xtend  throughout  eternity. 

In  connection  with  this  statement  of  Baxter's  labors 
and  sue  ;ss,  some  notice  may  be  taken  of  his  work 
entitled  the  "  Reformed  Pastor,"  written  expressly  to 
arouse  the  attention  and  excite  the  efforts  of  the  Chris- 
tian ministry  to  the  great  work  in  which  he  himself 
had  so  successfully  engaged.  His  reverend  brethren 
had  witnessed  the  astonishing  results  of  his  pastoral 
engagements,  and  were  anxious  to  make  some  efforts 
to  accomplish  among  their  own  people  similar  results. 
A  day  of  fasting  and  prayer  was  appointed  by  them- 
selves at  Worcester,  before  entering  on  their  untried 
labors,  and  Baxter  was  requested  to  preach  on  the  oc- 
casion. He  prepared  his  sermon,  but  his  illness  pre- 
vented his  preaching.  He  therefore  enlarged  his  ser- 
mon into  a  treatise,  and  published  it.  Concerning  this 
work  he  says : 

"  I  have  very  great  cause  to  be  thankful  to  God  fot 
the  success  of  that  book,  as  hoping  many  thousand 
souls  are  the  better  for  it,  in  that  it  prevailed  with 
many  ministers  to  set  upon  that  work  which  I  there 
exhort  them  to.  Even  from  beyond  the  seas  I  have 
had  letters  of  request  to  direct  them  how  they  might 
promote  that  work,  according  as  that  book  had  con- 
vinced them  that  it  was  their  duty.  If  God  would  but 
reform  the  ministry,  and  set  them  on  their  duties 
zealously  and  faithfully,  the  people  would  certainly 
be  reformed.  All  churches  either  rise  or  fall  as  the 
ministry  rise  or  fall,  not  in  riches  and  worldly  gran- 
deur, but  in  knowledge,  zeal,  and  ability  for  their 
work." 

Many  and  just  encomiums  have  been  passed  on  this 
work.    "In  the  whole  compass  of  divinity  there  is 

L.    B.  5* 


54  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

scarcely  any  thing  superior  to  it,  in  close  pathetic 
appeals  to  the  conscience  of  the  minister  of  Christ, 
upon  the  primary  duties  of  his  office."  The  editor  of 
a  recent  edition  justly  says,  "  Of  the  excellence  of 
this  work  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  speak  in  too  high 
terms.  For  powerful,  pathetic,  pungent,  and  heart- 
piercing  address,  we  know  of  no  work  on  the  pastoral 
care  to  be  compared  with  it.  Could  we  suppose  it  to 
be  read  by  an  angel,  or  by  some  other  being  possessed 
of  an  unfallen  nature,  the  argumentation  and  expostu- 
lations of  our  author  would  be  felt  to  be  altogether 
irresistible :  and  hard  must  be  the  heart  of  that  minis- 
ter who  can  read  it  without  being  moved,  melted,  and 
overwhelmed :  hard  must  be  his  heart,  if  he  be  not 
roused  to  greater  faithfulness,  diligence,  and  activity 
in  winning  souls  to  Christ.  It  is  a  work  worthy  of  be- 
ing printed  in  letters  of  gold.  It  deserves,  at  least,  to 
be  engraven  on  the  heart  of  every  minister.  I  cannot 
help  suggesting  to  the  friends  of  religion  that  they 
could  not,  perhaps,  do  more  good  at  less  expense,  than 
by  presenting  copies  of  this  work  to  the  ministers  of 
Christ  throughout  the  country.  They  are  the  chief 
instruments  through  whom  good  is  to  be  effected  in 
any  country.  How  important,  then,  must  it  be  to  stir 
them  up  to  holy  zeal  and  activity  in  the  cause  of 
the  Redeemer !  A  tract  given  to  a  poor  man  may  be  the 
means  of  his  conversion;  but  a  work,  such  as  this, 
presented  to  a  minister,  may,  through  his  increased 
faithfulness  and  energy,  prove  the  conversion  of  mul- 
titudes." 

In  addition  to  Baxter's  numerous  ministerial  and 
pastoral  labors,  he  was  consulted  by  persons  of  all 
classes  and  professions  on  the  various  subjects  connect- 
ed with  church  and  state,  which  at  that  period  were 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  55 

hotly  and  fiercely  agitated.  His  pacific  disposition,  and 
his  desire  to  promote  universal  concord  among  all  re- 
ligious parties,  were  generally  known.  Hence  his  ad- 
vice was  eagerly  sought  by  all.  This  must  have  occu- 
pied no  small  portion  of  his  time,  and  caused  him  no 
little  anxiety.  He  gives  a  curious  account  of  his  being 
consulted  by  Cromwell,  and  his  preaching  before  him. 

"  At  this  time  Lord  Broghill  and  the  Earl  of  Warwick 
brought  me  to  preach  before  Cromwell,  the  protector, 
which  was  the  only  time  that  ever  I  preached  to  him, 
save  once  long  before,  when  he  was  an  inferior  man 
among  other  auditors.  I  knew  not  which  way  to  pro- 
voke him  better  to  his  duty,  than  by  preaching  on  1 
Cor.  1 :  10,  against  the  divisions  and  distractions  of 
the  church,  and  showing  how  mischievous  a  thing  it 
was  for  politicans  to  maintain  such  divisions  for  their 
own  ends,  that  they  might  fish  in  troubled  waters,  and 
keep  the  church,  by  its  divisions,  in  a  state  of  weakness, 
lest  it  should  be  able  to  offend  them:  and  to  show  the 
necessity  and  means  of  union.  But  the  plainness  and 
nearness,!  heard,  was  displeasing  to  him  and  his  cour- 
tiers; yet  they  bore  with  it. 

"A  while  after,  Cromwell  sent  to  speak  with  me; 
and  when  I  came,  in  the  presence  only  of  three  of  his 
chief  men,  he  began  a  long  and  tedious  speech  to  me 
of  God's  providence  in  the  change  of  the  government, 
and  how  God  had  owned  it,  and  what  great  things  had 
been  done  at  home  and  abroad,  in  the  peace  with  Spain 
and  Holland,  &c.  When  he  had  wearied  us  all  with 
speaking  thus  slowly  about  an  hour,  I  told  him  it  was 
too  great  condescension  to  acquaint  me  so  fully  with 
all  these  matters  which  were  above  me,  but  that  we 
took  our  ancient  monarchy  to  be  a  blessing,  and  not 
an  evil  to  the  land,  and  humbly  craved  his  patience, 


56  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

that  I  might  ask  him  how  England  had  ever  forfeited 
that  blessing,  and  unto  whom  the  forfeiture  was  made? 
I  was  led  to  speak  of  the  species  of  government  only, 
for  they  had  lately  made  it  treason  by  a  law  to  speak 
for  the  person  of  the  king.  Upon  that  question  he  was 
awakened  into  some  passion,  and  told  me  it  was  no  for- 
feiture, but  God  had  changed  it  as  pleased  him ;  and 
then  he  let  fly  at  the  parliament,  which  thwarted  him; 
and  especially  by  name  at  four  or  five  of  those  mem- 
bers who  were  my  chief  acquaintance ;  and  I  presumed 
to  defend  them  against  his  passion ;  and  thus  four  or 
five  hours  were  spent. 

"A  few  days  after,  he  sent  for  me  again,  to  hear  my 
judgment  about  liberty  of  conscience,  which  he  pre- 
tended to  be  most  zealous  for,  before  almost  all  his  pri- 
vy council,  where,  after  another  slow,  tedious  speech 
of  his,  I  told  him  a  little  of  my  judgment." 

Baxter  was  also  consulted  by  various  private  indivi- 
duals on  cases  of  conscience,  which  he  was  requested 
to  solve.  To  these  he  lent  a  willing  ear,  and  adminis- 
tered suitable  advice;  or  he  replied  to  them  in  suitable 
and  interesting  letters.  This  must  have  occupied  his 
time  considerably.  Besides,  during  his  residence  at 
Kidderminster,  and  while  pursuing  his  indefatigable 
labors  among  his  flock,  he  wrote  and  published  nearly 
sixty  different  works,  many  of  them  quarto  volumes  of 
considerable  size.  Among  these  may  be  specially  enu- 
merated, in  addition  to  those  already  noticed, his  "Call 
to  the  Unconverted,"*  his  "  Treatise  on  Conversion," 
"On  Self-denial,"  on  "Crucifying  the  World,"  on 
"  Peace  of  Conscience,"  &c.  &c.  iScc. 

These  herculean  labors  seem  incredible.  But  for  the 

*  Published  by  the  American  Tract  Society. 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  57 

existence  of  the  works  themselves,  his  own  declara- 
tions, and  the  concurring  testimony  of  his  several  bio- 
graphers, it  would  have  been  deemed  impossible  that, 
with  his  enfeebled  health  and  incessant  pain,  he  could 
have  accomplished  so  much  in  so  short  a  time. 

His  own  account  of  his  general  labors  shows  at  once 
his  piety  and  devotedness,  his  spirit  and  energy,  his 
zeal  and  perseverance.    He  remarks : 

"  But  all  these  my  labors,  except  my  private  con- 
ferences with  the  families,  even  preaching  and  prepar- 
ing for  it,  were  but  my  recreations,  and,  as  it  were,  the 
work  of  my  spare  hours ;  for  my  writings  were  my 
chief  daily  labor,  which  yet  went  the  more  slowly  on, 
that  I  never  one  hour  had  an  amanuensis  to  dictate  to, 
and  especially  because  my  weakness  took  up  so  much 
of  my  time.  For  all  the  pains  that  my  infirmities  ever 
brought  upon  me,  were  never  half  so  grievous  an  afflic- 
tion to  me  as  the  unavoidable  loss  of  my  time  which 
they  occasioned." 

His  treatise  on  "  Self-denial"  originated  in  his  deep 
conviction  of  the  "  breadth,  and  length,  and  depth  of 
the  radical,  universal,  odious  sin  of  selfishness."  Un- 
der this  conviction  he  preached  a  series  of  sermons  on 
the  subject,  and,  at  the  urgent  entreaty  of  his  friends, 
he  published  them  in  the  form  they  now  assume.  He 
says  that  the  work  "  found  better  acceptance  than 
most  of  his  others,  but  yet  prevented  not  the  ruin  of 
church  and  state,  and  millions  of  souls  by  that  sin." 

Previous  to  this  he  had  published  his  work  on  "  Con- 
version." This  he  says  "  was  taken  from  plain  sermons 
which  Mr.  Baldwin  had  transcribed  out  of  my  notes. 
And  though  I  had  no  leisure,  in  this  or  other  writings, 
to  take  much  care  of  the  style,  nor  to  add  any  orna- 
ments, or  citations  of  authors,  I  thought  it  might  better 


58  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

pass  as  it  was,  than  not  at  all ;  and  that  if  the  author 
missed  of  the  applause  of  the  learned,  yet  the  book 
might  be  profitable  to  tlie  ignorant,  as  it  proved, 
through  the  great  mercy  of  God." 

Apologizing  for  the  plainness  and  earnestness  of  his 
manner,  he  observes,  "  The  commonness  and  the  great- 
ness of  men's  necessity  commanded  me  to  do  any  thing 
that  I  could  for  their  relief,  and  to  bring  forth  some 
water  to  cast  upon  this  fire,  though  I  had  not  at  hand 
a  silver  vessel  to  carry  it  in,  nor  thought  it  the  most  fit. 
The  plainest  words  are  the  most  profitable  oratory  in 
the  weightiest  matters.  Fineness  is  for  ornament,  and 
delicacy  for  delight ;  but  they  answer  not  necessity, 
though  sometimes  they  may  modestly  attend  that  which 
answers  it.  Yea,  when  they  are  conjunct,  it  is  hard  for 
the  necessitous  hearer  or  reader  to  observe  the  matter 
of  ornament  and  delicacy,  and  not  to  be  carried  from 
the  matter  of  necessity ;  and  to  hear  or  read  a  neat,  con- 
cise, sententious  discourse,  and  not  to  be  hurt  by  it; 
for  it  usually  hinders  the  due  operation  of  the  matter, 
keeps  it  from  the  heart,  stops  it  in  the  fancy,  and  makes 
it  seem  as  light  as  the  style.  We  use  not  compliments 
when  we  run  to  quench  a  common  fire,  nor  do  we  call 
men  to  escape  from  it  by  an  eloquent  speech.  If  we 
see  a  man  fall  into  fire  or  water,  we  regard  not  the  man- 
ner of  plucking  him  out,  but  lay  hands  upon  him  as  we 
can,  without  delay." 

Baxter's  "Call  to  the  Unconverted"  was  made  re- 
markably useful.  He  says.  "  The  occasion  of  this  was 
my  converse  with  Bishop  Usher,  while  I  was  at  Lon- 
don, who,  much  approving  my  method  or  directions 
for  peace  of  conscience,  was  importunate  with  me  to 
write  directions  suited  to  the  various  states  of  Chris- 
tians, and  also  against  particular  sins.  I  reverenced  the 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  59 

man,  but  disregarded  these  persuasions,  supposing  I 
could  do  nothing  but  what  was  done  as  well  or  better  al- 
ready. But  when  he  was  dead,  his  words  went  deeper 
to  my  mind,  and  I  purposed  to  obey  his  counsel;  yet 
so  as  that  to  the  first  sort  of  men,  the  ungodly,  I  thought 
vehement  persuasions  meeter  than  directions  only. 
And  so  for  such  I  published  this  little  book,  which 
God  has  blessed  with  unexpected  success  beyond  all 
the  rest  that  I  have  written,  except  the  Saints'  Rest. 
In  a  little  more  than  a  year  there  were  about  twenty 
thousand  of  them  printed  by  my  own  consent,  and 
about  ten  thousand  since,  besides  many  thousands  by 
stolen  impressions,  which  men  stole  for  lucre's  sake. 
Through  God's  mercy  I  have  had  information  of  al- 
most whole  households  converted  by  this  small  book, 
which  I  set  so  light  by.  And  as  if  all  this  in  England, 
Scotland,  and  Ireland  were  not  mercy  enough  to  me, 
God,  since  I  was  silenced,  has  sent  it  over  on  his  mes- 
sage to  many  beyond  the  seas ;  for  when  Mr.  Eliot  had 
printed  the  Bible  in  the  Indian  language,  he  next 
translated  this  my  '  Call  to  the  Unconverted,'  as  he 
wrote  to  us  here." 

In  addition  to  its  usefulness  mentioned  by  Baxter 
himself.  Dr.  Bates  relates  an  instance  of  six  brothers 
being  converted  at  one  time  by  this  invaluable  book. 
To  this  work,  multitudes  now  in  glory,  and  many  ad- 
vancing thither,  stand  indebted  for  their  first  serious 
impressions.  Urged  by  its  awful  denunciations,  they 
have  fled  from  the  "  city  of  destruction ;"  they  have 
sought  refuge  at  the  cross  of  Calvary.  Like  the  preach- 
ing of  John,  it  awakens,  alarms,  and  terrifies,  that  it 
may  lead  to  peace,  holiness,  and  glory,  through  Christ. 

Among  other  methods  of  doing  good,  Baxter  adopt- 
ed the  plan  which  is  now  so  generally  employed,  of 


60  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

publishing  small  tracts,  broadsheets,  or  handbills.  He 
pubhshed  various  broadsheets,  and  had  them  affixed 
to  walls  and  public  buildings,  that  the  attention  of  pas- 
sengers might  be  arrested,  and  that  those  who  had  no 
leisure  for  larger  works,  or  were  indisposed  to  pur- 
chase treatises,  might  be  informed,  edified,  and  saved. 
This  plan  he  adopted  with  great  success  during  the 
raging  of  the  plague. 

This  was  certainly  the  most  active,  useful,  and  im- 
portant period  of  his  life.  His  labors  subsequently  to 
this  were  of  a  more  chequered,  desultory,  and  less  ob- 
vious character.  Their  results,  though  undoubtedly 
great,  inasmuch  as  he  labored  with  the  same  zeal,  pie- 
ty, and  devotedness  as  heretofore,  yet  could  not  be 
perceived  so  manifestly  as  when  his  efforts  were  con- 
centrated in  one  spot,  and  were  superintended  by  his 
untiring  pastoral  vigilance.  The  time  of  persecution 
for  conscience'  sake  was  at  hand.  He  therefore,  in 
common  wiih  multitudes  of  his  brethren,  was  obliged 
to  labor  in  such  places,  and  on  such  occasions  only,  as 
the  providence  of  God  pointed  out.  But  these  labors 
were  not  in  vain,  for,  as  in  days  of  old,  they  "  that 
were  scattered  abroad,  went  every  where  preaching 
the  word." 


CHAPTER    IV. 

his  teNGAGEMENTS  AFTER  LEAVING  KIDDERMINSTER. 

Baxter  had  acquired  great  celebrity,  both  as  a 
preacher  and  writer.   He  was  known,  moreover,  to  be 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  61 

an  ardent  friend  to  civil  and  ecclesiastical  peace. 
Hence  he  was  frequently  consulted  on  these  subjects, 
not  only  by  ministers,  but  by  the  higher  powers.  On 
various  occasions  he  went  to  London,  and  it  would 
seem  chiefly  on  business  relating  both  to  the  church 
and  the  nation.  Early  in  April,  1660,  he  left  Kidder- 
minster, and  reached  London  on  the  13th  of  that 
month.  The  reason  of  his  leaving  is  not  stated,  but  it 
appears  evidently  to  have  been  in  connexion  with  the 
state  of  public  affairs. 

It  was  a  saying  of  Baxter's,  that  we  are  "  no  more 
choosers  of  our  employments  than  of  our  successes." 
The  truth  of  this  observation  he  was  now  especially 
called  to  verify  by  his  own  experience.  On  reaching 
London  he  was  consulted  on  the  subject  of  the  (king's) 
"  Restoration."  This  event  he,  in  common  with  multi- 
tudes of  his  brethren,  was  desirous  of  seeing  accom- 
plished. 

The  new  parliament  appointed  a  day  of  fasting  and 
prayer,  and  required  Baxter  to  preach  before  them  on 
the  occasion.  This  occurred  the  day  before  the  bill 
was  passed  for  the  return  of  the  exiled  monarch. 
Shortly  after  he  was  called  to  preach  a  thanksgiving 
sermon,  on  Monk's  success,  at  St.  Paul's,  before  the 
lord  mayor  and  aldermen.  Neither  of  the  sermons  ap- 
pear to  have  given  entire  satisfaction.  His  moderate 
views  displeased  partizans  of  all  sides  :  some  charged 
him  with  sedition ;  others  with  vacillation  and  tempo- 
rizing in  politics.  He  was,  however,  a  friend  to  the 
king,  and  rejoiced  in  the  prospect  of  his  restoration. 
He  used  all  his  efforts  to  promote  its  accomplishment. 

When  king  Charles  was  restored,  amid  the  general 
acclamations  of  the  nation,  several  of  the  Presbyterian 
ministers  were  made  chaplains  in  ordinary  to  him, 
h.  B,  6 


62  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

among  whom  was  Baxter.  His  certificate  of  appoint- 
ment to  the  office  is  dated  June  26,  1660.  Various  con- 
ferences were  held  by  Baxter  and  his  friends,  to  pro- 
mote a  union  between  episcopacy  and  presbyterianism. 
A  meeting  was  held  on  the  subject,  in  the  presence  of 
Charles,  at  which  Baxter  was  the  chief  speaker.  His 
address  on  the  occasion  is  distinguished  alike  by  its 
piety  and  fidelity.  He  was  desirous  of  promoting  and 
securing  the  religious  liberties  of  the  people,  and  of 
preventing  those  measures  which  he  perceived  were 
contemplated  to  remove  many  of  the  most  holy  and 
zealous  preachers  from  their  flocks.  The  following 
passage  from  his  address  to  the  king  shows  the  efforts 
that  had  been  made  to  preserve  the  Gospel  ministry 
during  the  commonwealth,  and  his  desire  that,  under 
the  dominion  of  their  rightful  monarch,  the  same  in- 
valuable privilege  might  be  preserved. 

"  I  presumed  to  tell  him  (his  majesty)  that  the  peo- 
ple we  spake  for  were  such  as  were  contented  with  an 
interest  in  heaven,  and  the  liberty  and  advantages  of  the 
Gospel  to  promote  it;  and  if  this  were  taken  from  them, 
and  they  were  deprived  of  their  faithful  pastors,  and 
liberty  of  worshipping  God,  they  would  consider  them- 
selves undone  in  this  world,  whatever  plenty  else  they 
should  enjoy;  and  the  hearts  of  his  most  faithful  sub- 
jects, who  hoped  for  his  help,  would  even  be  broi^en; 
and  that  we  doubted  not  but  his  majesty  desired  to 
govern  a  people  made  happy  by  him,  and  not  a  broken- 
hearted people,  that  considered  themselves  undone  by 
the  loss  of  that  which  is  dearer  to  them  than  all  the 
riches  of  the  world.  And  I  presumed  to  tell  him  that 
the  late  usurpers  that  were  over  us,  so  well  understood 
their  own  interest,  that,  to  promote  it,  they  had  found 
this  way  of  doing  good  to  be  the  most  efTectual  means, 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  63 

and  had  placed  and  encouraged  many  thousand  faith- 
ful ministers  in  the  church,  even  such  as  detested 
their  usurpation.  And  so  far  had  they  attained  their 
ends  hereby,  that  it  was  the  principal  means  of  their 
interest  in  the  people,  and  the  good  opinion  that  any 
had  conceived  of  them ;  and  those  of  them  that  had 
taken  the  contrary  course,  had  thereby  broken  them- 
selves to  pieces.  Wherefore  I  humbly  craved  his  ma- 
jesty's patience  that  we  might  have  the  freedom  to  re- 
quest of  him  that,  as  he  was  our  lawful  king,  in  whom 
all  his  people,  save  a  few  inconsiderable  persons,  were 
prepared  to  centre,  as  weary  of  their  divisions,  and 
glad  of  the  satisfactory  means  of  union  in  him,  so  he 
would  be  pleased  to  undertake  this  blessed  work  of 
promoting  their  holiness  and  concord  ;  for  it  was  not 
faction  or  disobedience  which  we  desired  him  to  in- 
dulge. And  that  he  would  never  suffer  himself  to  be 
tempted  to  undo  the  good  which  Cromwell  or  any 
other  had  done,  because  they  were  usurpers  that  did 
it ;  or  discountenance  a  faithful  ministry  because  his 
enemies  had  set  them  up.  But  that  he  would  rather 
outgo  them  in  doing  good,  and  opposing  and  rejecting 
the  ignorant  and  ungodly,  of  what  opinion  or  party 
soever.  For  the  people  whose  cause  we  recommended 
to  him,  had  their  eyes  on  him  as  the  officer  of  God, 
to  defend  them  in  the  possession  of  the  helps  of  their 
salvation ;  which,  if  he  were  pleased  to  vouchsafe 
them,  their  estates  and  lives  would  be  cheerfully  of- 
fered to  his  service." 

"  The  king  gave  us  not  only  a  free  audience,  but  as 
gracious  an  answer  as  we  could  expect ;  professing  his 
gladness  to  hear  our  inclinations  to  agreement,  and  his 
resolution  to  do  his  part  to  bring  us  together;  and  that 
it  must  not  be  by  bringing  one  party  over  to  the  other, 


64  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

but  by  abating  somewhat  on  both  sides,  and  meeting 
in  the  midway  ;  and  that,  if  it  were  not  accomplished, 
it  should  be  of  ourselves,  and  not  ol  him :  nay,  that  he 
was  resolved  to  see  it  brought  to  pass,  and  that  he 
would  draw  us  together  himself:  with  some  more  to 
this  purpose.  Insomuch  that  old  Mr.  Ash  burst  out 
into  tears  with  joy,  and  could  not  forbear  expressing 
what  gladness  this  promise  of  his  majesty  had  put  into 
his  heart." 

Proposals  of  agreement  were  submitted  to  the  king 
and  his  advisers,  but  without  effect.  Subsequently  to 
this,  Baxter  was  offered  a  bishopric  by  the  lord  chan- 
cellor; but  this,  for  various  reasons,  he  declined.  He 
did  not  consider  it  "  as  a  thing  unlawful  in  itself," 
but  he  thought  he  "  could  better  serve  the  church 
without  it."  In  the  letter  in  which  he  declines  epis- 
copal honors,  he  begs  of  the  lord  chancellor  that  he 
might  be  allowed  to  preach  to  his  old  charge  at  Kid- 
derminster.   He  says : 

"When  I  had  refused  a  bishopric,  I  did  it  on  such 
reasons  as  offended  not  the  lord  chancellor ;  and  there- 
fore, instead  of  it,  I  presumed  to  crave  his  favor  to  re- 
store me  to  preach  to  my  people  at  Kidderminster 
again,  from  whence  I  had  been  cast  out,  when  many 
hundreds  of  others  were  ejected  upon  the  restoration 
of  all  them  that  had  been  sequestered.  It  was  but  a 
vicarage  ;  and  the  vicar  was  a  poor,  unlearned,  igno- 
rant, silly  reader,  that  little  understood  what  Chris- 
tianity and  the  articles  of  his  creed  did  signify:  but 
once  a  quarter  he  said  something  which  he  called  a 
sermon,  which  made  him  the  pity  or  laughter  of  the 
people.  This  man,  being  unable  to  preach  himself, 
kept  always  a  curate  under  him  to  preach.  Before  the 
wars,  I  had  preached  there  only  as  a  lecturer,  and  he 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  65 

was  bound  in  a  bond  of  £500  to  pay  me  £60  per 
annum,  and  afterwards  he  was  sequestered,  as  is  be- 
fore sufficiently  declared.  My  people  were  so  dear  to 
me,  and  I  to  them,  that  I  would  have  been  with  them 
upon  the  lowest  lawful  terms.  Some  laughed  at  me 
for  refusing  a  bishopric,  and  petitioning  to  be  a  read- 
ing vicar's  curate.  But  I  had  little  hopes  of  so  good  a 
condition,  at  least  for  any  considerable  time." 

His  application,  however,  proved  unsuccessful ;  for 
arrangements  could  not  be  made  between  the  patron 
and  the  chancellor  respecting  the  removal  of  the  old 
vicar,  who  retained  the  charge  of  four  thousand  souls, 
though  utterly  incompetent  for  his  important  duties, 
and  Baxter  was  left  without  a  charge. 

Though  not  permitted  to  return  to  his  charge,  he 
nevertheless  exerted  himself  in  various  ways  to  pro- 
mote the  glory  of  God  and  the  good  of  souls.  His  at- 
tention was,  at  this  period,  drawn  to  the  subject  of 
missions  among  the  North  American  Indians.  Eliot, 
the  "  Apostle  of  the  Indians,"  and  his  assistants,  had 
effected  much  good  among  the  roving  tribes  of  Ame- 
rica, Cromwell  had  entered  warmly  into  the  cause, 
and  ordered  collections  to  be  made  in  every  parish 
for  the  propagation  of  the  Gospel  in  those  regions. 
Funds  were  raised,  a  society  was  formed  and  incor- 
porated, and  much  good  was  effected.  At  the  "  Resto- 
ration," some  parlies,  inimical  to  the  truth,  endeavor- 
ed to  destroy  the  institution,  and  to  appropriate  the 
funds  to  other  objects.  Baxter,  assisted  by  others,  ex- 
erted himself  to  prevent  tins  spoliation ;  and  by  his 
influence  at  court,  succeeded  in  securing  the  property, 
and  in  restoring  the  society  to  its  original  design. 

For  his  exertions  he  received  a  letter  of  thanks  from 
the  Governor  of  New  England,  and  another  from  the 
L.  B.  6* 


66  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

venerable  Eliot.  The  latter  informs  Baxter  of  his  in- 
tention to  translate  the  "  Call  to  the  Unconverted"  in- 
to the  Indian  language,  but  waited  for  his  permission, 
his  counsel,  and  his  prayers.  To  this  letter  Baxter  re- 
plied. A  few  extracts  from  his  reply  will  show  the  in- 
terest that  both  he  and  many  others  felt  in  the  cause 
of  missions  in  those  troublous  times. 

"  Reverend  and  much  honored  brother, — Though 
our  sins  have  separated  us  from  the  people  of  our  love 
and  care,  and  deprived  us  of  all  public  liberty  of  preach- 
ing the  Gospel  of  our  Lord,  I  greatly  rejoice  in  the 
liberty,  help,  and  success  which  Christ  has  so  long 
vouchsafed  you  in  his  work.  There  is  no  man  on  earth 
whose  work  I  think  more  honorable  than  yours.  To 
propagate  the  Gospel  and  kingdom  of  Christ  in  those 
dark  parts  of  the  world,  is  a  better  work  than  our  ha- 
ting and  devouring  one  another.  There  are  many  here 
that  would  be  ambitious  of  being  your  fellow-laborers, 
but  that  they  are  informed  you  have  access  to  no 
greater  a  number  of  the  Indians  than  you  yourself  and 
your  present  assistants  are  able  to  instruct.  An  hono- 
rable gentleman,  Mr.  Robert  Boyle,  the  governor  of  the 
corporation  for  your  work,  a  man  of  great  learning  and 
worth,  and  of  a  very  public  universal  mind,  did  motion 
to  me  a  public  collection,  in  all  our  churches,  for  the 
maintaining  of  such  ministers  as  are  willing  to  go 
hence  to  you,  while  they  are  learning  the  Indian  lan- 
guages and  laboring  in  the  work,  as  also  to  transport 
them.  But  I  find  those  backward  that  I  have  spoken 
to  about  it,  partly  suspecting  it  a  design  of  those  that 
would  be  rid  of  them ;  (but  if  it  would  promote  the 
work  of  God,  this  objection  were  too  carnal  to  be  re- 
garded by  good  men;)  partly  fearing  that,  when  the 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  67 

money  is  gathered,  the  work  may  be  frustrated  by  the 
alienation  of  it,  but  this  I  think  they  need  not  fear  so 
far  as  to  hinder  any  ;  partly  because  they  think  there 
will  be  nothing  considerable  gathered,  because  the  peo- 
ple Ihat  are  unwillingly  divorced  from  their  teachers 
will  give  nothing  to  send  them  farther  from  them,  but 
specially  because  they  think,  on  the  aforesaid  grounds, 
that  there  is  no  work  for  them  to  do  if  they  were  with 
you.  There  are  many  here,  I  conjecture,  that  would 
be  glad  to  go  any  where,  to  Persians,  Tartars,  Indians, 
or  any  unbelieving  nation,  to  propagate  the  Gospel, 
if  they  thought  they  could  be  serviceable  ;  but  the  de- 
fect of  their  languages  is  their  great  discouragement. 
The  industry  of  the  Jesuits  and  friars,  and  their  suc- 
cesses in  Congo,  Japan,  China,  &c.  shame  us  all,  save 
you.  I  should  be  glad  to  learn  from  you  how  far  your 
Indian  tongue  extends;  how  large  or  populous  the 
country  is  that  uses  it,  if  it  be  known  ;  and  whether  it 
reach  only  to  a  few  scattered  neighbors,  who  cannot 
themselves  convey  their  knowledge  far  because  of 
other  languages.  We  very  much  rejoice  in  your  hap- 
py work,  the  translation  of  the  Bible,  and  bless  God 
that  hath  strengthened  you  to  finish  it.  If  any  thing 
of  mine  may  be  honored  to  contribute  in  the  least 
measure  to  your  blessed  work,  I  shall  have  great  cause 
to  be  thankful  to  God,  and  wholly  submit  the  altera- 
tion and  use  of  it  to  your  wisdom." 

The  state  of  the  heathen  appears  to  have  occupied 
the  thoughts  of  Baxter  through  the  whole  course  of 
his  ministry.  Numerous  allusions  and  references  to 
the  subject  are  found  in  his  writings.  In  the  preface 
to  his  work  entitled  the  "  Reasons  of  the  Christian 
Religion,"  he  states  that  his  desire  to  promote  "  the 
conversion  of  idolaters  and  infidels  to  God  and  the 


68  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

Christian  faith,"  was  one  of  the  reasons  which  prompt 
ed  him  to  write  that  work.  "  The  doleful  thought  that 
five  parts  of  the  world  were  still  heathens  and  Moham- 
medans, and  that  Christian  princes  and  preachers  did 
no  more  for  their  recovery,"  awakened  the  most  pain- 
ful anxiety  and  distress  in  his  mind.  In  his  work,  "  How 
to  do  Good  to  Many,"  &c.  he  asks,  "  Is  it  not  possible, 
at  least,  to  help  the  poor  ignorant  Armenians,  Greeks, 
Muscovites,  and  otlier  Christians,  who  have  no  print- 
ing imong  them,  nor  much  preaching  and  knowledge ; 
ana  for  want  of  printing,  have  very  few  Bibles,  even 
for  their  churches  or  ministers?  Could  nothing  be 
done  to  get  some  Bibles,  catechisms,  and  practical 
books  printed  in  their  own  tongues,  and  given  among 
them?  I  know  there  is  difficulty  in  the  way;  but 
money,  and  willingness,  and  diligence,  might  do  some- 
th. ng.  Might  not  something  be  done  in  other  planta- 
tions, as  well  as  in  New-England,  towards  the  conver- 
sion of  the  natives  there?  Might  not  some  skillful, 
zealous  preachers  be  sent  thither,  who  would  promote 
serious  piety  among  those  of  the  English  that  have  too 
little  of  it,  teach  the  natives  the  Gospel,  and  our  plant- 
ers how  to  behave  themselves  so  as  to  win  souls  to 
Christ?" 

How  powerfully  affecting,  and  yet  how  truly  appli- 
cable, even  at  the  present  hour,  is  the  following  pas- 
sage, contained  in  his  life  I — "  it  would  make  a  believ- 
er's heart  bleed,  if  any  thing  in  the  world  will  do  it, 
to  tiiink  that  five  parts  in  six  of  the  world  are  still 
hcdlhens,  Moliamniedans,  and  infidels,  and  that  the 
wicked  lives  of  Christians,  with  fopperies,  ignorance, 
and  divisions,  form  the  great  impediment  to  their  con- 
version !  to  read  and  hear  travelers  and  merchants 
tell  that  the  Banians,  and  other  heathens  in  Hiadostan, 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  69 

Cambaia,  and  many  other  lands,  and  the  Mohamme- 
dans adjoining  to  the  Greeks,  and  the  Abyssinians, 
&c.  do  commonly  fly  from  Cliristianity,  and  say,  'God 
will  not  save  us  if  we  be  Christians,  for  Christians  are 
drunkards,  and  proud,  and  deceivers,'  &c.  and  that 
the  Mohammedans  and  many  heathens  have  more, 
both  of  devotion  and  honesty,  than  nominal  Christians 
that  live  among  them  !  O  wretched  men,  calling  them- 
selves after  the  name  of  Christ !  that  are  not  content 
to  damn  themselves,  but  thus  lay  stumbling-blocks 
before  the  world !  It  were  better  for  these  men  that 
they  had  never  been  born ! 

At  the  close  of  his  life,  and  on  the  near  approach  of 
eternity,  his  mind  was  deeply  interested  on  this  im- 
portant subject.  The  unbounded  benevolence  of  his 
heart  is  poured  forth  in  the  following  extract  from  his 
solemn  review  of  his  own  character,  made  in  his  last 
days: 

"  My  soul  is  much  more  afflicted  with  the  thoughts 
of  the  miserable  world,  and  more  drawn  out  in  desire 
of  their  conversion,  than  heretofore.  I  was  wont  to 
look  but  little  farther  than  England  in  my  prayers,  as 
not  considering  the  state  of  the  rest  of  the  world  :  or, 
if  I  prayed  for  the  conversion  of  the  Jews,  that  was 
almost  all.  But  now.  as  I  better  understand  the  case 
of  the  world,  and  the  method  of  the  Lord's  prayer,  so 
there  is  nothing  that  hes  so  heavy  upon  my  heart  as 
the  thought  of  the  miserable  nations  of  the  earth.  It 
is  the  most  astonishing  part  of  all  God's  providence 
to  me,  that  he  so  far  forsakes  almost  all  the  world,  and 
confines  his  special  favor  to  so  few;  that  so  small  a 
part  of  the  world  has  the  profession  of  Christianity, 
in  comparison  of  heathens,  Mohammedans,  and  infi- 
aels !  and  that,  among  professed  Christians,  there  are 


70  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

SO  few  that  are  saved  from  gross  delusions,  and  have 
any  competent  knowledge ;  and  tliat  among  those 
there  are  so  few  that  are  seriously  religious,  and  truly 
set  their  hearts  on  heaven.  I  cannot  be  affected  so 
much  with  the  calamities  of  my  own  relations,  or  of 
the  land  of  my  nativity,  as  v/ith  the  case  of  the  hea- 
then, Mohammedan,  and  ignorant  nations  of  the  earth. 
No  part  of  my  prayers  is  so  deeply  serious  as  that  for 
the  conversion  of  the  infidel  and  ungodly  world,  that 
God's  name  may  be  sanctified,  and  liis  kingdom  come, 
and  his  will  be  done  on  earth,  as  it  is  in  heaven.  Nor 
was  I  ever  before  so  sensible  what  a  plague  the  divi- 
sion of  languages  was,  which  hinders  our  speaking  to 
them  for  their  conversion ;  nor  what  a  great  sin  ty- 
ranny is,  which  keeps  out  the  Gospel  from  most  of 
the  nations  of  the  world.  Could  we  but  go  among 
Tartars,  Turks,  and  heathens,  and  speak  their  lan- 
guage, I  should  be  but  little  troubled  for  the  silencing 
of  eighteen  hundred  ministers  at  once  in  England,  nor 
for  all  the  rest  that  were  cast  out  here,  and  in  Scot- 
land and  Ireland.  There  being  no  employment  in  the 
world  so  desirable  in  my  eyes,  as  to  labor  for  the  win- 
ning of  such  miserable  souls,  which  makes  me  greatly 
honor  Mr.  John  Eliot,  the  apostle  of  the  Indians  in 
New-England,  and  whoever  else  have  labored  in  such 
work." 

Baxter  almost  despaired  of  the  conversion  of  the 
world.  The  obstacles  to  missionary  enterprise  were 
at  that  time  insurmountable.  "  He  that  surveys  the 
present  state  of  the  earth,"  writes  Baxter  to  his  friend 
Eliot,  "  and  considers  that  scarcely  a  sixth  part  is 
Christian,  and  how  small  a  part  of  them  have  much 
of  the  power  of  godhness,  will  be  ready  to  think  that 
Christ  has  called  almost  all  his  chosen,  and  is  ready 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  71 

to  forsake  the  earth,  rather  than  that  he  intends  us 
such  blessed  days  as  we  desire."  But  "  what  hath 
God  wrought !"  How  great  the  change  in  the  state  of 
religion,  both  at  home  and  abroad,  since  the  days  of 
Baxter!  Persecution  has  fled;  religion  has  revived; 
the  missionary  spirit  has  been  enkindled ;  prayer  has 
been  offered  ;  money  has  been  contributed  ;  commerce 
has  presented  facilities  for  introducing  the  Gospel  into 
all  parts  of  the  earth ;  wide  and  effectual  doors  have 
been  opened  ;  missionaries  have  gone  forth  to  the  help 
of  the  Lord  against  the  mighty,  and  great  success  has 
attended  their  labors :  so  that  we  are  evidently  ap- 
proaching nearer  to  the  period  when  the  proclamation 
shall  be  made,  "  The  kingdoms  of  this  world  are  be- 
come the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord,  and  of  his  Christ; 
and  he  shall  reign  for  ever  and  ever." 

About  this  period  the  celebrated  "  Savoy  Confer- 
ence" was  held.  The  object  was  to  effect  a  reconcilia- 
tion between  the  different  religious  parties,  that  they 
might  be  united  in  one  common  profession  of  Chris- 
tianity. At  this  conference  Baxter  took  a  prominent 
part.  He  was  sincerely  desirous  for  the  peace  of  the 
church,  and  that  an  accommodation  should  ensue. 
For  this  purpose  he  submitted  various  propositions, 
but  without  effect :  and,  after  some  weeks'  delibera- 
tion, the  conference  was  broken  up,  without  the  least 
hope  or  possibility,  under  existing  eircumstances,  of 
reconciliation.  Baxter  was  charged  by  his  antagonists 
with  "  speaking  too  boldly,  and  too  long  ;"  but  this  he 
accounted  not  a  crime,  but  a  virtue.  "  I  thought  it," 
says  he,  "  a  cause  I  could  cheerfully  suffer  for ;  and 
should  as  willingly  be  a  martyr  for  charity  as  for  faith." 

This  was  the  last  public  and  authorized  attempt  to 
promote  peace  and  unity  by  argument  and  persuasion. 


72  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

Thenceforward  other  measures  were  tried  to  effect  so 
desirable  an  object,  and,  most  unhappily,  the  diver- 
gence of  the  parlies  became  greater  than  ever. 

From  the  termination  of  the  "Savoy  Conference," 
the  case  of  the  dissidents  became  more  trying  and  per- 
plexing. They  were  calumniated  and  charged  with 
preaching  sedition,  or  with  forming  plots  against  the 
government.  Baxter,  whose  loyalty  was  unimpeach- 
able, and  whose  ruling  passion  was  a  desire  for  peace, 
whose  very  soul  was  love,  appears  to  have  been  parti- 
cularly marked  as  an  object  for  the  shafts  of  calumny. 
He  says :  "  So  vehement  was  the  endeavor  in  court, 
city,  and  country,  to  make  me  contemptible  and  odi- 
ous, as  if  the  authors  had  thought  that  the  safety  either 
of  church  or  stale  did  lie  upon  it,  and  all  wouM  have 
been  safe  if  I  were  but  vilified  and  hated.  So  that  any 
stranger  that  had  but  heard  and  seen  all  this,  would 
have  asked,  What  monster  of  villany  is  this  man?  and 
what  is  the  wickedness  that  he  is  guilty  of?  Yet  was 
I  never  questioned  to  this  day  before  a  magistrate. 
Nor  do  my  adversaries  charge  me  with  any  personal 
wrong  to  them ;  nor  did  they  ever  accuse  me  of  any 
heresy,  nor  much  contemn  my  judgment,  nor  ever  ac- 
cuse my  life,  but  for  preaching  where  another  had  been 
sequestered  that  was  an  insufficient  reader,  and  for 
preaching  to  the  soldiers  of  the  parliament  j  though 
none  of  them  knew  my  business  there,  nor  the  service 
that  I  did  them.  These  are  all  the  crimes,  besides  my 
writings,  that  I  ever  knew  they  charged  my  life  with." 

"  Though  no  one  accused  me  of  any  thing,  nor  spake 
a  word  to  me  of  it,  being  (they  knew  I  had  long  been) 
near  a  hundred  miles  off,  yet  did  they  defame  me  all 
over  the  land,  as  guilty  of  a  plot ;  and  when  men  were 
^aken  up  and  sent  to  prison,  in  other  countries,  it  was 


LIFE     OF    BAXTER.  73 

said  to  be  for  Baxter's  plot :  so  easy  was  it,  and  so  ne- 
cessary a  thing  it  seemed  then,  to  cast  reproach  upon 
my  name." 

During  the  two  years  of  his  residence  in  London, 
previous  to  his  final  ejectment,  Baxter  preached  in  va- 
rious places,  as  opportunities  presented  themselves. 

He  says :  '^  Being  removed  from  my  ancient  flock 
in  Worcestershire,  and  yet  being  uncertain  whether  I 
might  return  to  them  or  not,  I  refused  to  take  any 
other  charge,  but  preached  up  and  down  London,  for 
nothing,  according  as  I  was  invited.  When  I  had  done 
thus  above  a  year,  I  thought  a  fixed  place  was  better, 
and  so  I  joined  with  Dr.  Bates,  at  St.  Dunstan's  in  the 
West,  in  Fleet-street,  and  preached  once  a  week,  for 
which  the  people  allowed  me  some  maintenance.  Be- 
fore this  time  I  scarcely  ever  preached  a  sermon  in 
the  city. 

"  The  congregations  being  crowded,  was  that  which 
provoked  envy  to  accuse  me ;  and  one  day  the  crowd 
drove  me  from  my  place.  In  the  midst  of  a  sermon  at 
Dunstan's  church,  a  little  lime  and  dust,  and  perhaps 
a  piece  of  a  brick  or  two,  fell  down  in  the  steeple  or 
belfry,  which  alarmed  the  congregation  with  the  idea 
that  the  steeple  and  church  were  falling ;  and  indeed, 
in  their  confusion  and  haste  to  get  away,  the  noise  of 
the  feet  in  the  galleries  sounded  like  the  falling  of  the 
stones.  I  sat  still  in  the  pulpit,  seeing  and  pitying  their 
terror ;  and.  as  soon  as  I  could  be  heard,  I  entreated 
their  silence,  and  went  on.  The  people  were  no  sooner 
quieted,  and  got  in  again,  and  the  auditory  composed, 
but  a  wainscot  bench,  near  the  communion-table,  broke 
with  the  weight  of  those  who  stood  upon  it;  the  nois" 
renewed  the  fear,  and  they  were  worse  disordered  tnu.: 
before ;  so  that  one  old  woman  was  heard,  at  the  churcn 

L.    B.  7 


74  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

door,  asking  forgiveness  of  God  for  not  taking  the  first 
warning,  aiid  promising,  if  God  would  deliver  her  this 
once,  she  would  take  heed  of  coming  thither  again. 
When  they  were  again  quieted  I  went  on.  But  tne 
church  having  before  an  ill  name,  as  very  old,  and  '*ot- 
ten,  and  dangerous,  it  was  agreed  to  pull  down  all  the 
roof  and  repair  the  building,  which  is  now  much  more 
commodious. 

"  While  these  repairs  were  made  I  preached  out  my 
quarter  at  Bride's  church,  in  the  other  end  of  Fleet- 
street;  where  the  common  prayer  being  used  by  the 
curate  before  sermon,  I  occasioned  abundance  to  be 
at  common  prayer,  who  before  avoided  it.  And  yet 
accusations  against  me  still  continued. 

"  On  the  week  days,  Mr.  Ashurst,  with  about  twenty 
more  citizens,  desired  me  to  preach  a  lecture  in  Milk- 
street,  for  which  they  allowed  me  forty  pounds  per  an- 
num, which  I  continued  near  a  year,  till  we  were  all 
silenced.  And  at  the  same  time  I  preached  once  every 
Lord's  day  at  Blackfriars,  where  Mr.  Gibbons,  a  judi- 
cious man,  was  minister.  In  Milk-street  I  took  money, 
because  it  came  not  from  the  parishioners,  but  stran- 
gers, and  so  was  no  wrong  to  the  minister,  Mr.  Vincent, 
a  very  holy,  blameless  man.  But  at  Blackfriars  I  never 
look  a  penny,  because  it  was  the  parishioners  who 
called  me,  who  would  else  be  less  able  and  ready  to 
help  their  worthy  pastor,  who  went  to  God  by  a  con- 
sumption, a  little  after  he  was  silenced.  At  these  two 
churches  I  ended  the  course  of  my  public  ministry, 
unless  God  cause  an  undeserved  resurrection." 

"  Shortly  after  our  disputation  at  the  Savoy,  I  went 
to  Rickmansworth,  in  Hertfordshire,  and  preached 
there  but  once,  upon  Matt.  22  :  12,  '  And  he  was  speech- 
less ;'  Vv'here  I  spake  not  a  word  that  was  any  nearer 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  75 

kin  to  sedition,  or  that  had  any  greater  tendency  to 
provoke  them,  than  by  showing  '  that  wicked  men, 
and  the  refusers  of  grace,  however  they  may  now  have 
many  things  to  say  to  excuse  their  sins,  will  at  last  be 
speechless  before  God."  Yet  did  the  bishop  of  Wor- 
cester tell  me,  when  he  silenced  me,  that  the  bishop 
of  London  had  showed  him  letters  from  one  of  the 
hearers,  assuring  him  that  I  preached  seditiously :  so 
little  security  was  any  man's  innocency  to  his  reputa- 
tion, if  he  had  but  one  auditor  that  desired  to  get  fa- 
vor by  accusing  him. 

"  Shortly  after  my  return  to  London  I  went  into 
Worcestershire,  to  try  whether  it  were  possible  to  have 
any  honest  terms  from  the  reading  vicar  there,  that  I 
might  preach  to  my  former  flock ;  but  when  I  had 
preached  twice  or  thrice,  he  denied  me  liberty  to  preach 
any  more.  I  offered  him  to  take  my  lecture,  which  he 
was  bound  to  allow  me,  under  a  bond  of  five  hundred 
pounds,  but  he  refused  it.  I  next  offered  him  to  be  his 
curate,  and  he  refused  it.  I  next  offered  him  to  preach 
for  nothing,  and  he  refused  it.  And  lastly,  I  desired 
leave  but  once  to  administer  the  Lord's  supper  to  the 
people,  and  preach  my  farewell  sermon  to  them,  but 
he  would  not  consent.  At  last  I  understood  that  he  was 
directed  by  his  superiors  to  do  what  he  did.  But  Mr. 
Baldwin,  an  able  preacher  whom  I  left  there,  was  yet 
permitted. 

"  At  that  time,  my  aged  father  lying  in  great  pain 
of  the  stone  and  strangury,  I  went  to  visit  him,  twen- 
ty miles  further.  And  while  I  was  there  Mr.  Baldwin 
came  to  me,  and  told  me  that  he  also  was  forbidden  to 
preach.    We  both  returned  to  Kidderminster." 

"  Having  parted  with  my  dear  flock,  I  need  not  say 
with  mutual  tears,  I  left  Mr.  Baldwin  to  live  privately 


76  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

among  them,  and  oversee  them  in  my  stead,  and  visit 
them  from  house  to  iiouse;  advising  them,  notwith- 
standing all  the  injuries  tiiey  had  received,  and  all  the 
failings  of  the  ministers  that  preached  to  them,  and 
the  defects  of  the  present  way  of  worship,  that  yi?t  they 
should  keep  to  the  public  assemblies,  and  make  use  of 
such  helps  as  might  be  had  in  public,  togethei  with 
their  private  helps." 

The  great  crisis,  w^hich  was  foreseen  by  many,  had 
now  arrived.  The  parliamentary  attempt  to  promote 
ecclesiastical  peace,  by  the  "  Act  of  Uniformity,"  de- 
manding an  oath  of  absolute  subjection  to  every  requi- 
sition of  the  church,  ended  In  the  ejectment  of  two 
thousand  of  the  best  and  holiest  ministers  in  the  land 
from  their  livings  and  labors.  Baxter  determined  on 
not  taking  the  oath,  and  hence  relinquished  public 
preaching  as  soon  as  the  act  was  passed,  and  before  it 
came  into  operation.  His  reason  for  so  doing,  he  states 
to  be,  that  as  his  example  was  looked  to  by  many 
throughout  tlie  country,  it  might  be  known  that  he 
could  not  conform. 

In  the  earliev  period  of  his  ministry  Baxter  had  re- 
solved not  to  enter  into  the  married  state,  that  he  might 
pursue  his  pastoral  and  ministerial  labors  with  less 
anxiety  and  interruption.  After  his  ejectment,  how- 
ever, having  no  public  charge,  and  seeing  little  pros- 
pect of  ever  being  able  to  resume  his  ministerial  en- 
gagements, he  deemed  himself  at  liberty,  and  thai  ii 
would  conduce  to  his  comfort,  to  be  united  in  the  bonds 
of  matrimony.  He  married  Miss  Charlton,  a  lady  who, 
though  much  younger  than  himself,  proved  to  be  in 
every  respect  a  suitable  partner  for  this  eminent  saint. 
His  marriage  excited  much  curiosity  and  remark 
throughout  the  kingdom ;  and  "  I  think,"  he  observes, 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  77 

"  the  king's  marriage  was  scarce  more  talked  of  than 
mine."  He  and  his  wife  lived  a  very  unsettled  life; 
being  obliged,  on  account  of  persecutions,  frequently 
to  remove  from  one  place  of  residence  to  another. 

He  says :  "  Having  lived  three  years  and  more  in 
London  since  I  left  Kidderminster,  but  only  three 
quarters  of  a  year  since  my  marriage,  and  finding  it 
neither  agree  with  my  health  or  studies,  the  one  being 
brought  very  low,  and  the  other  interrupted,  and  all 
public  service  being  at  an  end,  I  betook  myself  to  live 
in  the  country,  at  Acton,  that  I  might  set  myself  to 
writing,  and  do  what  service  I  could  for  posterity,  and 
live,  as  much  as  possibly  I  could,  out  of  the  world. 
Thither  I  came,  1663,  July  14,  where  I  followed  my 
studies  privately  in  quietness,  and  went  every  Lord's 
day  to  the  public  assembly,  when  there  was  any  preach- 
ing or  catechising,  and  spent  the  rest  of  the  day  with 
my  family,  and  a  few  poor  neighbors  that  came  in ; 
spending  now  and  then  a  day  in  London.  And  the 
next  year,  1664,  I  had  the  company  of  divers  godly 
faithful  friends  that  tabled  with  me  in  summer,  with 
whom  I  solaced  myself  with  much  content."' 

"On  March  26,  being  the  Lord's  day,  1665,  as  I  was 
preacliing  in  a  private  house,  where  we  received  the 
Lord's  supper,  a  buHct  came  in  at  the  window  among 
us,  an^^.  passed  by  me,  and  narrowly  missed  the  head 
of  a  sister-in-law  of  mine  that  was  there,  and  hurt 
none  of  us ;  and  we  could  never  discover  M'hence  it 
came. 

"In  June  following,  an  ancient  gentlewoman,  with 
her  sons  and  daughter,  c?.me  four  miles  in  her  coach, 
to  hear  me  preach  in  my  family,  as  out  of  speciil  re- 
spect to  me.  It  happened  that,  contrary  to  o;ir  cus- 
loir,  we  let  her  knock  long  nt  the  door,  and  diJ  not 

L    B.  7* 


78  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

open  It;  and  so  a  second  time,  when  she  had  gone 
away  and  came  again;  and  the  third  time  she  came, 
we  had  ended.  She  was  so  earnest  to  know  when  she 
might  come  again  to  hear  me,  that  I  appointed  her  a 
time.  But  before  she  came,  I  had  secret  intelligence, 
from  one  that  was  nigh  her,  that  she  came  with  a 
heart  exceeding  full  of  malice,  resolving,  if  possible, 
to  do  me  what  mischief  she  could  by  accusation ;  and 
so  that  danger  was  avoided.*' 

The  "  plague  of  London  "  now  burst  forth  with  tre- 
mendous fury,  on  which  Baxter  thus  remarks: 

'•And  now,  after  all  the  breaches  on  the  churches, 
the  ejection  of  the  ministers,  and  impenitency  under 
all,  wars,  and  plague,  and  danger  of  famine  began  all 
at  once  on  us.  War  with  the  Hollanders,  which  yet 
continues;  and  the  driest  winter,  spring,  and  summer 
that  ever  man  alive  knew,  or  our  forefathers  men- 
tion of  late  ages;  so  that  the  grounds  were  burnt,  like 
the  highways,  where  the  cattle  should  have  fed  !  The 
meadow  grounds,  where  I  lived,  bare  but  four  loads  of 
hay,  which  before  bare  forty.  The  plague  has  seized 
on  the  most  famous  and  most  excellent  city  in  Chris- 
tendom, and  at  this  time  eight  thousand  die  of  all 
diseases  in  a  week.  It  has  scattered  and  consumed 
the  inhabitants,  multitudes  being  dead  and  fled.  The 
calamities  and  cries  of  the  diseased  and  impoverished 
are  not  to  be  conceived  by  those  that  are  absent  from 
them  I  Every  man  is  a  terror  to  his  neighbor  and  him- 
self ;  for  God,  for  our  sins,  is  a  terror  to  us  all.  O  !  how 
is  London,  the  place  which  God  has  honored  with  his 
Gospel  above  all  the  places  of  the  earth,  laid  in  low 
horrors,  and  wasted  almost  to  desolation  by  the  wrath 
of  God,  whom  England  hath  contemned  ;  and  a  God- 
hating  generation  are  consumed  in  their  sins,  and  the 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  79 

righteous  are  also  taken  away,  as  from  greater  evii  yet 
to  come." 

"  The  number  that  died  in  London  alone  was  about 
a  hundred  thousand.  The  richer  sort  removing  out  of 
the  city,  the  greatest  blow  fell  on  the  poor.  At  first,  so 
few  of  the  most  religious  were  taken  away,  that,  ac- 
cording to  the  mode  of  too  many  such,  they  began  to 
be  puffed  up,  and  boast  of  the  great  difference  which 
God  made ;  but  quickly  after,  they  all  fell  alike.  Yet 
not  many  pious  ministers  were  taken  away  :  I  remem- 
ber but  three,  who  were  all  of  my  own  acquaintance. 

"  It  is  scarcely  possible  for  people  that  live  in  a  time 
of  health  and  security,  to  apprehend  the  dreadfulness 
of  that  pestilence  !  How  fearful  people  were,  thirty 
or  forty,  if  not  a  hundred  miles  from  London,  of  any 
thing  that  they  bought  from  any  mercer's  or  draper's 
shop  !  or  of  any  goods  that  were  brought  to  them  !  or 
of  any  person  that  came  to  their  houses  !  How  they 
would  shut  their  doors  against  their  friends  !  and  if  a 
man  passed  over  the  fields,  how  one  would  avoid  an- 
other, as  we  did  in  the  time  of  wars  ;  and  how  every 
man  was  a  terror  to  another!  O  how  sinfully  un- 
thankful are  we  for  our  quiet  societies,  habitations, 
and  health  !" 

Many  of  the  ejected  ministers  seized  the  opportunity 
of  preaching  in  the  neglected  or  deserted  pulpits,  and 
in  the  public  places  of  resort,  to  the  terror-stricken  in- 
habitants of  London,  and  blessed  results  followed, 
"  Those  heard  them  one  day  often,  that  were  sick  the 
next,  and  quickly  died.  The  face  of  death  so  awakened 
both  preachers  and  hearers,  that  preachers  exceeded 
themselves  in  fervent  preaching,  and  the  people  crowd- 
ed constantly  to  hear  them  ;  and  all  was  done  with 
such  great  seriousness  that,  through  the  blessing  of 


30  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

God,  many  were  converted  from  their  carelessness, 
impeniiency,  and  youthful  lusts  and  vanities;  and  re- 
ligion took  such  a  hold  on  the  people's  hearts  as  could 
never  afterwards  be  loosed." 

When  the  plague  reached  Acton,  in  July,  Mr.  Bax- 
ter retired  to  Hampden,  in  Bucks,  where  he  continued 
with  his  friend  .Mr.  Hampden  till  tiie  following  March. 
The  plague,  he  says,  '•  having  ceased  on  March  Isi  fol- 
lowing, I  returned  home,  and  found  the  churchyard 
like  a  ploughed  field  with  graves,  and  many  of  my 
neiglibors  dead  ;  but  my  house,  near  the  churchyard, 
uninfected,  and  that  part  of  my  family  which  I  left 
there,  all  safe,  through  the  great  mercy  of  God." 

Scarcely  had  the  plague  ceased  its  ravages  before 
the  great  fire  commenced  its  destructive  career  in  Lon- 
don. Churches  in  great  numbers  were  destroyed  in  the 
general  conflagration.  The  zealous,  though  silenced 
watchmen,  ventured,  amid  tlie  ashes  of  a  ruined  city, 
to  urge  the  inhabitants  to  flee  from  the  '•  wraih  to 
come,"  and  to  seek,  in  their  impoverished  condition, 
'•  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ." 

The  distress  occasioned  by  these  calamities  was 
great.  "  Many  thousands  were  cast  into  Jitter  want  and 
beggary,  and  many  thousands  of  the  formerly  rich 
were  disabled  from  relieving  them."  To  the  friends  of 
Christ  in  London,  the  silenced  ministers  in  the  coun- 
try had  been  accustomed  to  look  for  assistance  in  their 
distresses.  By  these  providences  their  resources  were 
in  a  measure  dried  up.  But,  though  enduring  dread- 
ful privations,  few,  if  any,  were  suffered  to  perish 
through  want.    Baxter  says  : 

'•  Whilst  I  was  living  at  Acton,  as  loni?  as  the  act 
against  conventicles  was  in  force,  tliouah  I  preached 
to  my  family,  few  of  the  town  came  to  hear  me,  pan- 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER,  81 

ly  because  they  thought  it  would  endanger  me,  and 
partly  for  fear  of  suffering  themselves,  but  especially 
because  they  were  an  ignorant  poor  people,  and  had 
no  appetite  for  such  things.  But  when  the  act  was 
expired,  there  came  so  many  that  I  wanted  room  ;  and 
when  once  they  had  come  and  heard,  they  afterwards 
came  constantly ;  insomuch  that  in  a  little  time  there 
was  a  great  number  of  them  that  seemed  very  serious- 
ly affected  with  the  tilings  they  heard;  and  almost  all 
the  town,  besides  multitudes  from  Brentford  and  the 
neighboring  places,  came." 

He  attended  the  services  of  the  church,  and  between 
the  interval  of  service  preached  in  his  own  liouse  to 
as  many  as  chose  to  come.  This  gave  umbrage  to  the 
minister.  "  It  pleased  the  parson,"  says  Baxter,  "that 
I  came  to  church,  and  brought  others  Avith  me ;  but 
he  was  not  able  to  bear  the  sight  of  people's  crowding 
into  my  house,  though  they  heard  him  also ;  so  that, 
though  he  spoke  kindly  to  me,  and  we  lived  in  seem- 
ing love  and  peace  while  he  was  there,  yet  he  could 
not  long  endure  it.  And  when  I  had  brought  the  peo- 
ple to  church  to  hear  him,  he  would  fall  upon  them 
with  groundless  reproaches,  as  if  he  had  done  it  pur- 
posely to  drive  them  away;  and  yet  thought  that  my 
preaching  to  them,  because  it  was  in  a  private  house, 
did  all  the  mischief,  though  he  never  accused  me  of 
any  thing  that  I  spake.  For  I  preached  nothing  but 
Christianity  and  submission  to  our  superiors,  faith,  re- 
pentance, hope,  love,  humility,  self-denial,  meekness, 
patience,  and  obedience." 

During  his  residence  at  Acton,  Baxter  became  ac- 
quainted with  Lord  Chief  Justice  Hale,  who  occupied 
the  house  adjoining  his  own.  With  his  simplicity,  in- 
tegrity, piety,  and  learning,  he  was  delighted  and 


82  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

charmed.  He  denominates  him  "  the  pillar  of  justice, 
the  refuge  of  the  subject  who  feared  oppression,  and 
one  of  the  greatest  honors  of  his  majesty's  govern- 
ment." His  lordship,  too,  appears  to  have  been  equal- 
ly interested  in  the  character  of  his  neighbor.  His 
avowed  esteem  and  respect  for  ihe  despised  noncon- 
formist was  a  means  of  encouraging  and  strengthen- 
ing the  hands  of  Baxter.  "  When  the  people  crowded 
in  and  out  of  my  house  to  hear,  he  openly  showed  me 
such  great  respect  before  them  at  tie  door,  and  never 
spake  a  word  against  it,  as  was  no  small  encourage- 
ment to  the  common  people  to  go  on ;  though  the 
other  sort  muttered  that  a  judge  should  seem  so  far  to 
countenance  that  which  they  took  to  be  against  the 
law." 


CHAPTER   V. 

HIS   PERSECUTIONS,    TRIAL,    AND    DEATH. 

At  length  Baxter's  preaching  at  Acton  could  no 
longer  be  connived  at.  Information  was  laid  against 
him,  and  a  warrant  was  issued  for  his  apprehension. 
He  was  taken  before  two  justices  of  the  peace.  "When 
I  came,"  he  writes,  "they  shut  out  all  persons  from 
the  room,  and  would  not  give  leave  for  any  one  per- 
son, no,  not  their  own  clerk  or  servant,  or  the  consta- 
ble, to  hear  a  word  that  was  said  between  us.  Then 
ihey  told  me  that  I  was  convicted  of  keeping  conven- 
ticles contrary  to  law,  and  so  they  would  tender  me 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  83 

the  Oxford  oath.  I  desired  my  accusers  might  come 
face  to  face,  and  that  I  might  see  and  speak  with  the 
witnesses  who  testified  that  I  kept  conventicles  con- 
trary to  the  law,  which  I  denied,  as  far  as  I  under- 
stood law ;  but  they  would  not  grant  it.  I  pressed  tliat 
I  might  speak  in  the  hearing  of  some  witnesses,  and 
not  in  secret ;  for  I  supposed  that  they  were  my  judges, 
and  that  their  presence  and  business  made  tlie  place 
a  place  of  judicature,  where  none  should  be  excluded, 
or  at  least  some  should  be  admitted.  But  I  could  not 
prevail.  Had  I  resolved  on  silence,  they  were  resolved 
to  proceed;  and  I  thought  a  Christian  should  rather 
submit  to  violence,  and  give  place  to  injuries,  than 
stand  upon  his  right,  when  it  will  give  others  occasion 
to  account  him  obstinate.  I  asked  them  whether  I 
might  freely  speak  for  myself,  and  they  said  yea ;  but, 
when  I  began  to  speak,  still  interrupted  me,  and  put 
me  by.  But,  with  much  importunity,  I  got  them  once 
to  hear  me,  while  I  told  them  why  I  took  not  my 
meeting  to  be  contrary  to  law,  and  why  the  Oxford 
act  concerned  me  not,  and  they  had  no  power  to  put 
that  oath  on  me  by  the  act ;  but  all  the  answer  I  could 
get  was,  'That  they  were  satisfied  of  what  they  did.' 
And  when,  among  other  reasonings  against  their 
course,  I  told  them,  though  Christ's  ministers  had,  in 
many  ages,  been  men  esteemed  and  used  as  we  now 
are,  and  their  afflicters  had  insulted  over  them,  the 
providence  of  God  had  still  so  ordered  it  that  the 
names  and  memory  of  their  silencers  and  afflicters 
have  been  left  to  posterity  for  a  reproach,  insomuch 
that  I  wondered  that  those  who  fear  not  God,  and 
care  not  for  their  own  or  the  people's  souls,  should 
yet  be  so  careless  of  their  fame,  when  honor  seems  so 
great  a  matter  with  them.   To  which  Ross  answered, 


84  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

that  he  desired  no  greater  honor  to  his  name,  than 
that  it  should  be  remembered  of  him  that  he  did  this 
against  me,  and  such  as  I,  which  he  was  doing." 

The  result  of  this  interview  was,  that  Baxter  was 
fully  committed,  for  six  months,  to  the  New  Prison, 
Clerkenwell.  He  begged  that  his  liberty  might  b? 
granted  till  the  following  Monday ;  but  as  he  would 
not  promise  not  to  preach  on  the  intervening  Lord's 
day,  his  request  was  denied. 

The  inhabitants  of  Acton  were  grieved  at  the  loss  of 
their  neighbor,  and  the  more  so,  as  the  incumbent  of 
the  parish  was  the  means  of  his  imprisonment.  "  The 
whole  town  of  Acton  were  greatly  exasperated  against 
the  dean  when  I  was  going  to  prison,  insomuch  that 
ever  since  they  abhorred  him  as  a  selfish  persecutor. 
Nor  could  he  devise  to  do  more  to  hinder  the  success 
of  his  (seldom)  preaching  there.  But  it  was  his  own 
choice:  'Let  them  hate  me,  so  they  fear  me.'  And  so 
1  finally  left  that  place,  being  grieved  most  that  Satan 
had  prevailed  to  stop  the  poor  people  in  such  hopeful 
beginnings  of  a  common  reformation,  and  that  I  was 
to  be  deprived  of  the  exceeding  grateful  neighborhood 
of  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  Hale,  who  could  scarce  re- 
frain tears  when  he  heard  of  the  first  warrant  for  my 
appearance. 

"My  imprisonment  was,  at  present,  no  great  suf- 
fering to  me,  for  I  had  an  honest  jailer,  who  showed 
me  all  the  kindness  he  could.  I  had  a  large  room, 
and  the  liberty  of  walking  in  a  fair  garden;  and  my 
wife  was  never  so  cheerful  a  companion  to  me  as  in 
prison,  and  was  very  much  against  my  seeking  to  be 
released ;  and  she  had  brought  so  many  necessaries, 
that  we  kept  house  as  contentedly  and  as  comfortably 
as  at  home,  though  in  a  narrower  room ;  and  I  had 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  85 

tlie  sight  of  more  of  my  friends  in  a  day,  than  I  had 
at  home  in  lialf  a  year." 

Efforts  were  made,  by  his  friends,  to  procure  his  re- 
lease, which,  in  consequence  of  some  informalities  in 
his  commitment,  were  successful.  His  reflections  on 
his  imprisonment  show  his  piety  and  submission. 

"While  I  stayed  in  prison,  I  saw  somewhat  to 
blame  myself  for,  and  somewhat  to  wonder  at  others 
for,  and  somewhat  to  advise  my  visitors  about. 

"  I  blamed  myself  that  I  was  no  more  sensible  of 
the  spiritual  part  of  my  affliction;  such  as  the  inter- 
ruption of  my  work  among  the  poor  people  from  whom 
I  was  removed,  and  the  advantage  Satan  had  got 
against  them,  and  the  loss  of  my  own  public  liberty, 
for  worshiping  in  the  assemblies  of  God's  people. 

"I  marvelled  at  some  who  suffered  more  than  I,  as 
Mr.  Rutherford,  when  he  M'as  confined  to  Aberdeen, 
that  their  sufferings  occasioned  them  such  great  joys 
as  they  express;  which  surely  was  from  the  free  grace 
of  God,  to  encourage  others  by  their  example,  and  not 
that  their  own  impatience  made  them  need  it  much 
more  than  at  other  times.  For  surely  so  small  a  suf- 
fering needs  not  a  quarter  of  the  patience  whicli 
many  poor  nonconforming  ministers,  and  thousands 
of  others  need,  that  are  at  liberty;  whose  own  houses, 
through  poverty,  are  made  far  worse  to  them  than  my 
prison  was  to  me. 

"I  found  reason  to  entreat  my  Acton  neighbors 
not  to  let  their  passion  against  their  parson,  on  my 
account,  hinder  them  from  a  due  regard  to  his  doc- 
trine, nor  from  any  of  the  duty  which  they  owed  him  ; 
and  to  blame  some  who  aggravated  my  sufferings, 
and  to  tell  them  that  I  had  no  mind  to  fancy  myself 
hurt  before  I  felt  it.    I  used,  at  home  to  confine  mv- 

L.  B.  8 


86  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

self  voluntarily  almost  as  much.  I  had  ten-fold  more 
public  life  here,  and  converse  with  my  friends,  than 
I  had  at  home.  If  I  had  been  to  take  lodgings  at  Lon- 
don for  six  months,  and  had  not  known  that  this 
had  been  a  prison,  and  had  knocked  at  the  door  and 
asked  for  rooms,  I  should  as  soon  have  taken  this 
uhich  I  was  put  into,  as  most  in  town,  save  only  for 
the  interruption  of  my  sleep. 

"  I  found  cause  to  desire  of  my  brethren,  that,  when 
they  suflfered,  they  wouid  remember  that  the  design  of 
Satan  was  more  against  their  souls  than  their  bodies ; 
that  it  was  not  the  least  of  his  hopes  to  destroy  the 
love  due  to  those  by  whom  they  suffered ;  to  render 
our  superiors  odious  to  the  people;  and  to  make  us 
take  such  a  poor  suffering  as  this  for  a  sign  of  true 
grace,  instead  of  faith,  hope,  love,  mortification,  and  a 
heavenly  mind  ;  and  that  the  loss  of  one  grain  of  love 
was  worse  than  a  long  imprisonment.  Also  that  it 
much  more  concerned  us  to  be  sure  that  we  deserve 
not  suffering,  than  that  we  be  delivered  from  it ;  and 
to  see  that  we  wrong  not  our  superiors,  than  that  they 
wrong  not  us;  seeing  we  are  not  near  so  much  hurt 
by  their  severities  as  we  are  by  our  sins.  Some  told 
me  that  they  hoped  this  would  make  me  stand  a  little 
further  from  the  prelates  and  their  worship  than  I  had 
done.  To  whom  I  answered,  that  I  wondered  that 
they  should  think  that  a  prison  should  change  my 
judgment.  I  rather  thought  now  it  was  my  duty  to 
set  a  stricter  watch  upon  my  passions,  lest  they  should 
pervert  my  judgment,  and  carry  me  into  extremes  in 
opposition  to  tliose  who  afflicted  me.  If  passion  made 
me  lose  my  love,  or  my  religion,  the  loss  would  be 
ray  own.  And  truth  did  not  change  because  I  was 
in  a  jail." 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  87 

His  time  was  now  chiefly  occupied  in  writing  and 
publisiiing  various  works  on  controversial  and  experi- 
mental divinity,  and  in  making  some  attempts  to  pro- 
cure a  union  between  the  Presbyterians  and  Indepen- 
dents. He  frequently  conversed  and  corresponded 
Willi  Dr.  Owen  on  this  subject.  Owen  requested  Bax- 
ter to  draw  up  a  scheme  of  agreement.  Tiiis  scheme 
Owen  attentively  considered,  but  could  not  adopt. 
Baxter's  attempts  to  unite  all  parties  satisfied  none. 

Baxter,  with  a  few  others  of  tlie  nonconformists,  de- 
fended tlie  practice  of  occasional  attendance  and  com- 
munion in  the  parish  churches  where  the  Gospel  was 
preached.  It  was,  in  consequence,  currently  reported 
at  this  time,  that  he  had  actually  conformed.  He  was 
offered  preferment  in  Scotland  by  the  king.  A  mitre, 
a  professor's  gown,  or  a  surplice,  was  presented  to  his 
choice.  But  he  declined  accepting  his  majesty's  offer. 
His  refusal  is  contained  in  his  letter  to  the  Earl  of  Lau- 
derdale, through  whom  the  offer  was  presented. 

"My  Lord, — Being  deeply  sensible  of  your  lord- 
ship's favors,  and  in  special  of  your  liberal  offers  for 
my  entertainment  in  Scotland,  I  humbly  return  yon 
my  very  hearty  thanks.  But  these  considerations  for- 
bid me  to  entertain  any  hopes  or  further  thoughts  of 
such  a  remove  : 

"  1.  The  experience  of  my  great  weakness  and  de- 
cay of  strength,  and  particularly  of  this  last  winter's 
pain,  and  how  much  worse  I  am  in  winter  than  in 
summer,  doth  fully  persuade  me  that  I  should  live  but 
a  little  while  in  Scotland,  and  that  in  a  disabled,  use- 
less condition,  rather  keeping  my  bed  than  the  pulpit. 

"2.  I  am  engaged  in  writing  a  book,  which,  if  I 
could  hope  to  live  to  finish,  is  almost  all  the  service 


Sb  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

that  I  expect  to  do  God  and  his  church  more  in  the 
^vorld — a  Latin  Metliodus  Theologiae ;  and  I  can  hard- 
ly hope  to  live  so  long,  it  requiring  near  a  year's  labor 
more.  Now,  if  I  should  go  and  spend  that  one  half 
year,  or  year,  which  should  finish  that  work,  in  tra- 
vel, and  the  trouble  of  such  a  removal,  and  then  leave 
my  intended  work  undone,  it  would  disappoint  me  of 
the  ends  of  my  life  ;  for  I  live  only  for  work,  and  there- 
fore should  remove  only  for  work,  and  not  for  wealth 
and  honor,  if  ever  I  remove. 

"  3.  If  I  were  there,  all  that  I  could  hope  for  were 
liberty  to  preach  the  Gospel  of  salvation,  and  especially 
in  some  university  among  young  scholars.  But  I  hear 
that  you  have  enough  already  for  this  work,  that  are 
like  to  do  it  better  than  I  can. 

"  4.  I  have  a  family,  and  in  it  a  mother-in-law,  eighty 
years  of  age,  of  honorable  extraction  and  great  worth, 
whom  I  must  not  neglect,  and  who  cannot  travel.  And 
it  is  to  such  a  one  as  I,  so  great  a  business  to  remove 
a  family,  and  all  our  goods  and  books  so  far,  as  deters 
me  from  thinking  of  it,  having  paid  so  dear  for  remo- 
vals these  eight  years  as  I  have  done,  and  being  but 
3'esterday  settled  in  a  house  which  I  have  newly  taken, 
and  that  with  great  trouble  and  loss  of  time. 

"All  this  concurs  to  deprive  me  of  this  benefit  of 
your  lordship's  favor.  But,  my  lord,  there  are  other 
fruits  of  it,  which  I  am  not  altogether  hopeless  of  re- 
ceiving. When  I  am  commanded  to  pray  for  kings, 
and  all  in  authority,  I  am  allowed  the  ambition  of  this 
preferment,  which  is  all  that  ever  I  aspired  after :  '  to 
live  a  quiet  and  peaceable  life,  in  all  godliness  and 
honesty.' 

"  I  am  weary  of  the  noise  of  contentious  revilers, 
and  have  often  had  thoughts  to  go  into  a  foreign  land. 


LIFE     OF    BAXTER.  89 

if  I  could  find  any,  where  I  might  have  a  healtliful  air 
and  quietness,  that  I  might  but  live  and  die  in  peace. 
When  I  sit  in  a  corner,  and  meddle  with  nobody,  and 
hope  the  world  will  forget  that  i  am  alive,  court,  city, 
and  country  is  still  filled  with  clamors  against  me; 
and  when  a  preacher  wants  preferment,  his  way  is  to 
preach  or  write  a  book  against  the  nonconformists, 
and  me  by  name.  So  that  the  press  and  pulpits  of 
some,  utter  bloody  invectives  against  myself,  as  if  my 
peace  were  inconsistent  with  the  kingdom's  happiness. 
And  never  did  my  eyes  read  such  impudent  untruths, 
in  matter  of  fact,  as  these  writings  contain;  and  they 
cry  out  for  answers  and  reasons  of  m}"  nonconformi- 
ty, while  they  know  the  law  forbids  me  to  answer 
them  unlicensed.  I  expect  not  that  any  favor  or  jus- 
tice of  my  superiors  should  cure  any  of  this.  But  a 
few  things  I  would  desire  : 

"  1.  If  I  might  but  be  heard  to  speak  for  myself,  be- 
fore I  be  judged  by  them,  and  such  things  be  believed. 
For  to  contemn  the  judgment  of  my  rulers  is  to  dis- 
honor them. 

'•  2.  If  I  might  live  quietly  to  follow  my  private  study, 
and  might  once  again  have  the  use  of  my  books,  which 
J  have  not  seen  these  ten  years,  still  paying  for  a  room 
in  which  they  stand  at  Kidderminster,  where  they  are 
eaten  with  worms  and  rats,  having  no  security  for  my 
quiet  abode  in  any  place  long  enough  to  encourage  me 
to  snnd  for  them.  And  if  I  might  have  the  liberty  that 
every  beggar  has,  to  travel  from  town  to  town  ;  I  mean, 
but  to  London,  to  oversee  the  press,  when  any  thing 
of  mine  is  licensed  for  it.    And, 

"3.  If  I  be  sent  to  Newgate  for  preaching  Christ's 
Gospel,  (for  I  dare  not  sacrilegiously  renounce  my  call- 
ing, to  which  I  am  consecrated,)  that  I  may  have  the  fa- 

L.    B.  8* 


90  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

vor  of  a  belter  prison,  where  I  may  but  walk  and  write. 

"  These  1  should  lake  as  very  great  favors,  and  ac- 
knowledge your  lordship  my  benefactor,  if  you  pro- 
cure them.  For  I  will  not  so  much  injure  you  as  to 
desire,  or  my  reason  as  to  expect,  any  greater  things; 
no,  not  the  benefit  of  the  law.  1  think  I  broke  no  law 
in  any  of  the  preachings  which  I  am  accused  of;  and 
I  most  confidently  think  that  no  law  imposes  on  me 
the  Oxford  oath,  any  more  than  any  conformable  mi- 
nister; and  lam  past  doubting  the  present  mittimus 
for  my  imprisonment  is  quite  without  law.  But  if 
the  justices  think  otherwise  now,  or  al  any  time,  I 
know  no  remedy.  I  have  yet  a  license  to  preach  pub- 
licly in  London  diocess,  under  the  archbishop's  own 
hand  and  seal,  which  is  yet  valid  for  occasional  ser- 
mons, though  not  for  lectures  or  cures;  but  I  dare  not 
use  it,  because  it  is  in  the  bishop's  power  to  recall  it. 
Would  but  the  bishop,  who,  one  would  think,  should 
not  be  against  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel,  not  recall 
my  license,  I  could  preach  occasional  sermons,  which 
would  absolve  my  conscience  from  all  obligations  to 
private  preaching.  For  it  is  not  maintenance  that  1  ex- 
pect; I  have  never  received  a  farthing  for  my  preach- 
ing, to  my  knowledge,  since  May  1,  1662.  I  thank  God 
I  have  food  and  raiment  without  being  chargeable  to 
any  man,  which  is  all  that  I  desire,  had  I  but  leave  to 
preach  for  nothing,  and  that  only  where  there  is  a  no- 
torious necessity.  I  humbly  crave  your  lordship's  par- 
don for  this  tediousness,  and  again  return  you  my  very 
great  thanks  for  your  great  favors;  remaining,  &c. 

"  June  24,  1670.  Richard  Baxter." 

He  says  :  "  On  October  11,  1672,  I  fell  into  a  dan- 
gerous fit  of  sicknessj  which  God,  in  his  wonted  mer- 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  91 

cy,  in  time  so  far  removed  as  to  return  me  to  some 
capacity  of  service. 

"  I  had  till  now  forborne,  for  several  reasons,  to  seek 
a  license  for  preaching  from  the  king,  upon  the  tole- 
ration. But  when  all  others  had  taken  theirs,  and 
were  settled  in  London  and  other  places,  as  they  could 
get  opportunity,  I  delayed  no  longer,  but  sent  to  seek 
one  on  condition  I  might  have  it  without  the  title  of 
Ind(  pendent,  Presbyterian,  or  any  other  party,  but 
only  as  a  nonconformist.  And  before  I  sent.  Sir  Thomas 
Player,  chamberlain  of  London,  had  procured  it  me 
without  my  knowledge  or  endeavor.  I  had  sought 
none  hitherto. 

"  I.  Because  I  was  unwilling  to  be,  or  seem  any 
cause  of  that  way  of  liberty,  if  a  better  might  have 
been  had,  and  therefore  would  not  meddle  in  it. 

"  2.  I  lived  ten  miles  from  London,  and  thought  it 
not  just  to  come  and  set  up  a  congregation  there,  till 
the  ministers  had  fully  settled  theirs,  who  had  borne 
the  burden  there  in  the  times  of  the  raging  plague  and 
fire,  and  other  calamities,  lest  I  should  draw  away 
any  of  their  auditors,  and  hinder  their  maintenance. 

"  3.  I  perceived  that  no  one,  that  ever  I  heard  of 
till  mine,  could  get  a  license,  unless  he  would  be  en- 
titled in  it,  a  Presbyterian,  Independent,  or  of  some 
sect. 

"  The  19lh  of  November  was  the  first  day,  after  ten 
years'  silence,  that  I  preached  in  a  tolerated  public 
assembly,  though  not  yet  tolerated  in  any  consecpated 
church,  but  only,  against  law,  in  my  own  house. 

"  Some  merchants  set  up  a  Tuesday's  lecture  in 
London,  to  be  kept  by  six  ministers  at  Pinner's  Hall, 
allowing  them  twenty  shillings  a  piece  each  sermon, 
of  whom  they  chose  me  to  be  one." 


92  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

"  January  24,  1672-3,  I  Degaii  a  Friday  lecture  at 
Mr.  Turner's  church  in  New-street,  near  Fetter-lane, 
with  great  convenience  and  God's  encouraging  bless- 
ing ;  but  I  never  took  a  penny  of  money  for  it  of  any 
one.  And  on  the  Lord's  days  I  had  no  congregation 
to  preach  to,  but  occasionally  to  any  that  desire  me, 
being  unwilling  to  set  up  a  church  and  become  the 
pastor  of  any,  or  take  maintenance,  in  this  distracted 
and  unsettled  way,  unless  further  changes  shall  ntani- 
fest  it  to  be  my  duty.  Nor  did  I  ever  yet  administer 
the  Lord's  supper  to  any  one  person,  but  to  my  old 
flock  at  Kidderminster," 

"On  February  20th  I  took  my  house  in  Bloomsbury, 
in  London,  and  removed  thither  with  my  family;  God 
having  mercifully  given  me  three  years'  great  peace 
among  quiet  neighbors  at  Totteridge,  and  much  more 
health  and  ease  than  I  expected,  and  some  opportuni- 
ty to  serve  him." 

In  this  situation  he  continued  for  some  time,  em- 
ploying his  flying  pen  and  his  unwearied  efforts  to  pro- 
mote the  peace  of  the  churches  and  to  instruct  and 
bless  mankind.  In  April,  1674,  he  writes,  "  God  has 
so  much  increased  my  languishing,  and  laid  me  so 
low,  that  I  have  reason  to  think  that  my  time  on  earth 
will  not  be  long.  And  O  how  good  has  the  will  of  God 
proved  hitherto  to  me  !  And  will  it  not  be  best  at  last? 
Experience  causes  me  to  say  to  his  praise,  '  Great 
peace  have  they  that  love  his  law,  and  nothing  shall 
offend  them ;'  and  though  my  flesh  and  heart  fail,  God 
is  the  rock  of  my  heart  and  my  portion  for  ever. 

"  At  this  time  came  out  my  book  called  'The  Poor 
Man's  Family  Book,'  which  the  remembrance  of  the 
great  use  of  Mr.  Dent's  'Plain  Man's  Pathway  to 
Heaven,'  now  laid  by,  occasioned  me  to  write  for 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  93 

poor  country  families,  who  cannot  buy  or  read  many 
books." 

Anxiously  bent  on  doing  good,  and  encouraged  by 
the  reception  and  success  liis  "  Poor  Man's  Family 
Book"  met  with,  he  prepared  several  other  works  for 
the  promotion  and  increase  of  family  religion.  He 
justly  beUeved  that  domestic  piety  was  of  the  utmost 
importance  for  the  maintenance  and  progress  of  Chris- 
tianity. To  promote  ''  household  religion  "  he  employ- 
ed all  his  energies  while  at  Kidderminster.  In  his  "Re 
formed  Pastor,"  he  urges  ministers  seriously  to  con 
sider  the  subject.  He  says  :  "The  life  of  religion,  and 
the  welfare  and  glory,  both  of  the  church  and  state, 
depend  much  on  family  government  and  duty.  If  we 
suffer  the  neglect  of  this,  we  shall  undo  all.  What  are 
we  like  to  do  ourselves  for  reforming  a  congregation, 
if  all  the  work  be  cast  on  us  alone,  and  masters  of  fa- 
milies neglect  that  necessary  duty  of  their  own  by 
which  they  are  bound  to  help  us  ?  If  any  good  be  be- 
gun by  the  ministry  in  any  soul,  a  careless,  prayerless, 
worldly  family,  is  likely  to  stifle  it,  or  very  much  hin- 
der it ;  whereas,  if  you  could  but  get  the  rulers  of  fa- 
milies to  do  their  duty,  to  take  up  the  work  where 
you  left  it,  and  help  it  on,  what  abundance  of  good 
might  be  done  !  I  beseech  you,  therefore,  if  you  de- 
sire the  reformation  and  welfare  of  your  people,  do  all 
you  can  to  promote  family  religion." 

He  prosecuted  his  Master's  work  with  unwearied 
zeal,  though  suffering  great  bodily  affliction,  and  ex- 
posed to  much  vexatious  and  embarrassing  opposition. 

He  says:  "Taking  it  to  be  my  duty  to  preach  while 
toleration  continues,  I  removed,  the  last  spring,  to 
London,  where  my  diseases,  increasing  this  winter,  a 
constant  head-ache  added  to  the  rest,  and  continuing 


94  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

Strong  for  about  half  a  year,  constrained  me  to  cease 
my  Friday's  lecture,  and  an  afiernoon  sermon  on  the 
Lord's  days  in  my  house,  to  my  grief;  and  to  preach 
only  one  sermon  a  week,  at  St.  James's  market-house, 
where  some  had  hired  an  inconvenient  place.  But  i 
had  great  encouragement  to  labor  there,  because  oi 
the  notorious  necessity  of  the  people;  it  being  the  ha- 
bitation of  the  most  ignorant,  atheistical,  and  popish 
about  London  ;  and  because,  beyond  my  expectation, 
the  people  generally  proved  exceedingly  willing,  and 
attentive,  and  tractable,  and  gave  me  great  hopes  oJ 
much  success." 

"  On  July  5,  1674,  at  our  meeting  over  St.  James'sr 
market-house,  God  vouchsafed  us  a  great  delivei-ance. 
A  main  beam,  before  weakened  by  the  weight  of  the 
people,  so  cracked,  that  three  times  they  ran  in  terror 
out  of  the  room,  thinking  it  was  falling ;  but  lemem- 
bering  the  like  at  Dunstan's  in  the  west,  I  reprovea 
their  fear  as  causeless.  But  the  next  day,  taking  up 
the  boards,  we  found  that  two  rents  in  the  beam  weres 
so  great  that  it  was  a  wonder  of  Providence  that  tho 
floor  had  not  fallen,  and  the  roof  with  it.  to  the  de- 
struction of  multitudes.  The  Lord  make  us  thankful!' 

"It  pleased  God  to  give  me  marvellous  encourage 
ment  in  my  preaching  at  St.  James's.  The  crack  havinf, 
frightened  away  most  of  the  richer  sort,  especially  th». 
women,  most  of  the  congregation  were  young  rnen, 
of  the  most  capable  age,  who  heard  with  great  atten 
tion  ;  and  many  that  had  not  come  to  church  for  many 
years,  manifested  so  great  a  cliange,  (some  })api.sts 
and  divers  others,  returning  public  thanks  to  God  f»>< 
their  conversion)  as  made  all  my  charge  and  trouclv 
easy  to  me.  Among  all  the  popish,  rude,  and  igno-idii* 
people  who  were  inhabitants  of  those  parts,  we  iiad 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  95 

scarcely  any  tliat  opened  their  mouths  agahist  us,  and 
that  did  not  speak  well  of  the  preaching  of  the  word 
among  them  ;  though,  when  I  came  first  thither,  the 
most  knowing  inhabitants  assured  me  that  some  of 
the  same  persons  wished  my  death.  Among  the  ruder 
sort,  a  common  reformation  was  noticed  in  the  place, 
in  their  conversation  as  well  as  in  their  judgments." 

"The  dangerous  crack  over  the  market-house  at 
St.  James's,  made  many  desire  that  I  had  a  larger 
safer  place  for  meeting.  And  though  my  own  dullness, 
and  great  backwardness  to  troublesome  business,  made 
me  very  averse  to  so  great  an  undertaking,  judging 
that,  it  being  in  the  face  of  the  court,  it  would  never 
be  endured,  yet  the  great  and  incessant  importunity 
of  many,  out  of  a  fervent  desire  of  the  good  of  souls, 
constrained  me  to  undertake  it.  And  when  it  was 
almost  finished,  in  Oxendon-street,  Mr.  Henry  Coven- 
try, one  of  his  majesty's  prir>cipal  secretaries,  who  had 
a  house  joining  to  it,  and  was  a  member  of  parliament, 
spake  twice  against  it  in  the  parliament ;  but  no  one 
seconded  him." 

"And  that  we  might  do  the  more  good,  my  wife 
urged  the  building  of  another  meeting  place  in  Blooms- 
bury,  for  Mr.  Reed,  to  be  furthered  by  my  sometimes 
helping  him  ;  the  neighborhood  being  very  full  of  peo- 
ple, rich  and  poor. 

"  I  was  so  long  wearied  with  keeping  my  doors  shut 
against  them  that  came  to  distrain  on  my  goods  for 
preaching,  that  I  was  induced  to  go  from  my  house, 
and  to  sell  all  my  goods,  and  to  hide  my  library  first, 
and  afterwards  to  sell  it.  So  that  if  books  had  been 
my  treasure,  and  I  valued  little  more  on  earth,  I  had 
been  now  without  a  treasure.  About  twelve  years  I 
was  driven  a  hundred  miles  from  them ;  and  when  I 


96  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

had  paid  dear  for  the  carriage,  after  two  or  three  years 
1  was  forced  to  sell  them.  And  the  prelates,  to  hinder 
me  from  preaching,  deprived  me  also  of  these  private 
comforts.  But  God  saw  that  they  were  my  snare.  We 
brought  nothing  into  the  world,  and  we  must  carry 
nothing  out. 

"  I  was  the  more  willing  to  part  with  goods,  books, 
and  all,  that  I  might  have  nothing  to  be  distrained, 
and  so  go  on  to  preach.  And  accordingly  removing 
my  dwelling  to  the  new  chapel  which  I  had  built,  I 
purposed  to  venture  there  to  preach,  there  being  forty 
thousand  persons  in  the  parish,  as  is  supposed,  more 
than  can  hear  in  the  parish  church,  who  have  no  place 
to  go  to  for  God's  public  worship.  So  that  I  set  not 
up  church  against  church,  but  preached  to  those  that 
must  else  have  none,  being  unwilling  that  London 
should  turn  atheists,  or  live  worse  than  infidels.  But 
when  I  had  preached  there  but  once,  a  resolution  was 
taken  to  surprise  me  the  next  day,  and  send  me  for 
six  months  to  the  common  jail,  upon  the  act  for  the 
Oxford  oath.  Not  knowing  of  this,  it  being  the  hottest 
part  of  the  year,  I  agreed  to  go  for  a  few  weeks  into 
the  country,  twenty  miles  off.  But  the  night  before  I 
should  go,  I  fell  so  ill  that  I  was  induced  to  send  to 
disappoint  both  the  coach  and  my  intended  compan- 
ion, Mr.  Silvester.  And  when  I  was  thus  fully  resolved 
to  stay,  it  pleased  God,  after  the  ordinary  coach  hour, 
that  three  men,  from  three  parts  of  the  city,  met  at  my 
house  accidentally,  just  at  the  same  time,  almost  to  a 
minute,  of  whom,  if  any  one  had  not  been  there,  I  had 
not  gone,  namely,  the  coachman  again  to  urge  me, 
Mr.  Silvester,  whom  I  had  put  off,  and  Dr.  Coxe,  who 
compelled  me,  and  told  me  he  would  carry  me  into 
the  coach.   It  proved  a  special  merciful  providence  of 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  97 

God  ;  for  after  one  week  of  languishing  and  pain,  I 
had  nine  weeks  greater  ease  than  ever  I  expected  in 
this  world,  and  greater  comfort  in  my  work.  My  good 
friend  Richard  Berisford,  Esq.  clerk  of  the  exchequer, 
wiiose  importunity  drew  me  to  his  house,  spared  no 
cost,  labor,  or  kindness  for  my  health  or  service." 

Baxter  was  now  constantly  harassed  with  informa- 
tions, fines,  and  warrants  of  distress,  but  he  bore  them 
all  with  astonishing  meekness  and  patience.  He  endea- 
vored to  convince  and  convert  the  informers  and  offi- 
cers, who,  on  several  occasions,  came  to  apprehend 
him.  In  some  cases  his  exhortations  were  successful, 
ifnot  to  their  actual  conversion,  at  least  to  induce  them 
to  relinquish  their  persecuting  practices. 

A  striking  instance  of  his  placable  and  forgiving  dis- 
position is  given  in  the  following  extract.  "  Keting, 
the  informer,  being  commonly  detested  for  prosecuting 
me,  was  cast  into  jail  for  debt,  and  wrote  to  me  to  en- 
deavor his  deliverance,  which  I  did ;  and  in  his  letters 
says,  '  Sir,  I  assure  you  I  do  verily  believe  that  God 
has  bestowed  all  this  affliction  on  me  because  I  was 
so  vile  a  wretch  as  to  trouble  you.  And  I  assure  you 
I  never  did  a  thing  in  my  life  that  has  so  much  trou- 
bled myself  as  that  did.  I  pray  God  to  forgive  me.  And 
truly,  I  do  not  think  of  any  that  went  that  way  to  work, 
that  ever  God  would  favor  with  his  mercy.  And  truly, 
".vithout  great  mercy  from  God,  I  do  not  think  that 
ever  I  shall  thrive  or  prosper.  And  I  hope  you  will  be 
pleased  to  pray  to  God  for  me.'" 

Baxter  considered  that  the  "  vows  of  God  were  upon 
him,"  and  that  he  must  continue  to  preach  wherever 
Divine  providence  opened  a  door  for  the  purpose.  His 
obligations  to  God  he  considered  superior  to  those  by 
which  he  was  bound  to  obey  the  ordinances  of  man  ; 

L.    B.  9 


98  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

and  therefore,  though  forbidden  by  law,  and  in  despite 
of  persecution,  he  continued  to  preach  the  Gospel  to 
his  ignorant  and  perishing  countrymen. 

He  says:  "Being  driven  from  home,  and  having  an 
old  license  of  the  bishop's  yet  in  force,  by  the  counte- 
nance of  that,  and  the  great  industry  of  Mr.  Berisford, 
I  had  leave  and  invitation  for  ten  Lord's  days  to  preach 
in  the  churches  round  about.  The  first  that  I  preached 
in,  after  thirteen  years'  ejection  and  prohibition,  was 
Rickmanworth,  and  after  that,  at  Sarratt,  at  King's 
Langley,  at  Chesham,  at  Charlfont,  and  at  Amersham, 
and  that  often  twice  a-day.  Those  heard  who  had  not 
come  to  church  for  seven  years;  and  two  or  three 
thousand  heard,  where  scarcely  a  hundred  were  wont 
to  come ;  and  with  so  much  attention  and  willingness, 
as  gave  me  very  great  hopes  that  I  never  spake  to 
them  in  vain.  And  thus  soul  and  body  had  these  spe- 
cial mercies." 

"  When  I  had  been  kept  a  whole  year  from  preach- 
ing in  the  chapel  which  I  built,  on  the  16th  of  April, 
1676,  I  began  in  another,  in  a  tempestuous  time 3  such 
was  the  necessity  of  the  parish  of  St.  Martin's,  where 
about  60,000  souls  have  no  church  to  go  to,  nor  any 
public  worship  of  God  !  How  long,  Lord  !" 

"  Being  denied  forcibly  the  use  of  the  chapel  which 
I  had  built,  I  was  forced  to  let  it  stand  empty,  and  pay 
thirty  pounds  per  annum  for  the  ground-rent  myself, 
and  glad  to  preach  for  nothing,  near  it,  at  a  chapel 
built  by  another,  formerly  in  Swallow-street,  because 
it  was  among  the  same  poor  people  that  had  no 
preaching." 

Interruptions  and  informations  were  so  numerous  at 
Swallow-street  that  he  was  obliged  to  discontinue  his 
labors  there.    "  It  pleased  God  to  take  away,  by  tor- 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  99 

ment  of  the  stone,  that  excellent  faithful  minister,  Mr. 
Thomas  Wadsvvorth,  in  South wark  ;  and  just  when  I 
was  thus  kept  out  at  Swallow-street,  his  flock  invited 
me  to  South  wark,  where,  though  I  refused  to  be  their 
pastor,  I  preached  many  months  in  peace,  there  being 
no  justice  willing  to  disturb  us." 

"  When  Dr.  Lloyd  became  pastor  of  St  Martin's  in 
the  Fields,  I  was  encouraged  by  Dr.  Tillotson  to  offer 
him  my  chapel  in  Oxendon-street  for  public  worship, 
which  he  accepted,  to  my  great  satisfaction,  and  now 
there  is  constant  preaching  there.  Be  it  by  conformist 
or  nonconformists,  I  rejoice  that  Christ  is  preached." 

His  reputation,  too,  was  assailed.  He  was  charged 
with  uttering  falsehood,  and  with  the  crime  of  mur- 
der !  He  was  able,  however,  successfully  to  refute  the 
calumnies,  and  to  confound  his  calumniators. 

About  this  period,  1681,  Baxter  was  called  to  endure 
a  severe  and  trying  providence,  in  the  death  of  his  wife. 
They  had  lived  together  nineteen  years.  She  had  been 
his  companion  in  tribulation  ;  his  comforter  in  sorrow. 
Animated  by  her  piety  and  her  influence,  he  had  per- 
severed in  all  his  attempts  to  do  good.  But,  now,  in 
the  advance  of  life,  in  weakened  health,  in  persecution, 
and  in  no  distant  prospect  of  imprisonment,  he  was 
left  to  pursue  his  journey  alone.  She  died  in  the  faith 
and  hope  of  the  Gospel,  June  17,  1681. 

He  still  pursued  his  studies  and  his  occasional  labors. 
"  Having  been  for  retirement  in  the  country,  from  Ju- 
ly till  August  14,  1682,  returning  in  great  weakness,  I 
was  able  only  to  preach  twice,  of  which  the  last  was 
in  my  usual  lecture  in  New-street,  and  it  fell  out  to  be 
August  24,  just  that  day  twenty  years,  that  I,  and  near 
two  thousand  more,  had  been  by  law  forbidden  to 
preach  any  more.    I  was  sensible  of  God's  wonderful 


100  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

mercy  that  had  kept  so  many  of  us  twenty  years  in  so 
much  liberty  and  peace,  while  so  many  severe  laws 
were  in  force  against  us,  and  so  great  a  number  were 
round  about  us  who  wanted  neither  malice  nor  power 
to  afflict  us.  And  so  I  took,  that  day,  my  leave  of  the 
pulpit  and  public  work,  in  a  thankful  congregation. 
And  it  is  like,  indeed,  to  be  my  last. 

"  But  after  this,  when  I  had  ceased  preaching,  I 
was,  being  newly  arisen  from  extremity  of  pain,  sud- 
denly surprised  in  my  house  by  a  poor  violent  inform- 
er, and  many  constables  and  officers,  who  rushed  in 
and  apprehended  me,  and  served  on  me  one  warrant 
to  seize  on  my  person,  for  coming  within  five  miles  of 
a  corporation  ;  and  five  more  warrants,  to  distrain  for 
a  hundred  and  ninety  pounds  for  five  sermons.  They 
cast  my  servants  into  fears,  and  were  about  to  take  all 
my  books  and  goods,  and  I  contentedly  went  with 
them  towards  the  justice  to  be  sent  to  jail,  and  left  my 
house  to  their  will.  But  Dr.  Thomas  Coxe,  meeting 
me,  forced  me  in  again  to  my  couch  and  bed,  and  went 
to  five  justices  and  took  his  oath,  without  my  know- 
ledge, that  I  could  not  go  to  prison  without  danger  of 
death.  Upon  that  the  justices  delayed  a  day,  till  they 
could  speak  with  the  king,  and  told  him  what  the  doc- 
tor had  sworn  ;  and  the  king  consented  that  the  pre- 
sent imprisonment  should  be  forborne,  that  I  might 
die  at  home.  But  they  executed  all  their  warrants  on 
my  books  and  goods,  even  the  bed  that  I  lay  sick  on, 
and  sold  them  all ;  and  some  friends  paid  them  as  much 
money  as  they  were  prized  at,  which  I  repaid." 

"  When  I  borrowed  some  necessaries  I  was  never 
the  quieter;  for  they  threatened  to  come  upon  me 
again  and  take  all  as  mine,  whosesoever  it  was,  which 
they  found  in  my  possession.    So  that  1  had  no  reme- 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  101 

dy,  bill  utterly  to  forsake  my  house,  and  goods,  and 
all,  and  take  secret  lodgings  distant  in  a  stranger's 
house.  But  having  a  long  lease  of  my  own  house, 
which  binds  me  to  pay  a  greater  rent  than  now  it  is 
worth,  wherever  I  go  I  must  pay  that  vent. 

"  The  separation  from  my  books  would  have  been 
a  greater  part  of  my  small  affliction,  but  that  I  found 
I  was  near  the  end  both  of  that  work  and  life  which 
needeth  books,  and  so  I  easily  let  go  all.  Naked  came 
I  into  the  world,  and  naked  must  I  go  out. 

'■  But  I  never  wanted  less  what  man  can  give,  than 
when  men  had  taken  all.  My  old  friends,  and  stran- 
gers to  me,  were  so  liberal,  that  I  was  constrained  to 
check  their  bounty.  Their  kindness  was  a  surer  and 
larger  revenue  to  me  than  my  own. 

"  But  God  was  plei^sed  quickly  to  put  me  past  all 
fear  of  man,  and  all  desire  of  avoiding  suffering  from 
them  by  concealment,  by  laying  on  me  more  himself 
than  man  can  do.  Their  imprisonment,  with  tolera- 
ble health,  would  have  seemed  a  palace  to  me;  and 
had  they  put  me  to  death  for  such  a  duty  as  they  per- 
secute me  for,  it  would  have  been  a  joyful  end  of  my 
calamity.  But  day  and  night  I  groan  and  languish  un- 
der God's  just  afflicting  hand.  As  waves  follow  waves 
in  the  tempestuous  seas,  so  one  pain  and  danger  fol- 
lows another  in  this  sinful  miserable  flesh.  I  die  daily, 
and  yet  remain  alive.  God,  in  his  great  mercy,  know- 
ing my  dullness  in  health  and  ease,  makes  it  much 
easier  to  repent  and  hate  my  sin,  and  loath  myself, 
and  contemn  the  world,  and  submit  to  the  sentence  of 
death  with  willingness,  than  otherwise  it  was  ever  like 
to  have  been.  O  how  little  is  it  that  wrathful  enemies 
can  do  against  us,  in  comparison  of  what  our  sin  and 
the  justice  of  God  can  do  I    And  O  how  little  is  it  that 

L.    B.  9* 


102  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

the  best  and  kindest  of  friends  can  do  for  a  pained 
body  or  a  guilty  soul,  in  comparison  of  one  gracious 
look  or  word  from  God !  Wo  be  to  him  that  has  no 
better  help  than  man ;  and  blessed  is  he  whose  help 
and  hope  is  in  the  Lord." 

"  While  I  continued,  night  and  day,  under  constant 
pain,  and  often  strong,  and  under  the  sentence  of  ap- 
proaching death  by  an  incurable  disease,  which  age 
and  great  debility  yields  to,  I  found  great  need  of  the 
constant  exercise  of  patience  by  obedient  submission  to 
God ;  and,  writing  a  small  Tract  of  it  for  my  own  use, 
I  saw  reason  to  yield  to  them  that  desired  it  might  be 
published,  there  being  especially  so  common  need  of 
'  obedient  patience. '  " 

"  Under  my  daily  pains  I  was  drawn  to  a  work  which 
I  had  never  the  least  thoughts  of,  and  is  like  to  be  the 
last  of  my  life,  to  write  a  paraphrase  on  the  New  Tes- 
tament. Mr.  John  Humphrey  having  long  importuned 
me  to  write  a  paraphrase  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans, 
when  I  had  done  that,  the  usefulness  of  it  to  myself 
drew  me  farther  and  farther,  till  I  had  done  all.  But 
having  confessed  my  ignorance  of  the  Revelation,  and 
yet  unwilling  wholly  to  omit  it,  I  gave  but  general 
notes,  with  the  reasons  of  my  uncertainty  in  the  great- 
est difficulties,  which  I  know  will  fall  under  the  sharp 
censure  of  many.  But  truth  is  more  valuable  than 
such  men's  praises.  I  fitted  the  whole,  by  plainness, 
to  the  use  of  ordinary  families. 

"After  many  times  deliverance  from  the  sentence 
of  death,  on  November  20,  1684.  in  the  very  entrance 
of  the  seventieth  year  of  my  age,  God  was  pleased  so 
greatly  to  increase  my  painful  diseases,  as  to  pass  on 
me  the  sentence  of  a  painful  death.  But  God  turns  it 
to  my  good,  and  gives  me  a  greater  willingness  to  die 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  103 

than  I  once  thought  I  should  ever  have  attained.  The 
Lord  teach  me  more  fully  to  love  his  will  and  rest 
therein,  as  much  better  than  my  own,  that  often  strives 
against  it. 

"  A  little  before  this,  while  I  lay  in  pain  and  lan- 
guishing, the  justices  of  sessions  sent  warrants  to  ap- 
prehend me,  about  a  thousand  more  being  also  on  the 
list,  to  be  all  bound  to  good  behavior.  I  thought  they 
would  send  me  six  months  to  prison  for  not  taking  the 
Oxford  oath,  and  dwelling  in  London,  and  so  I  refused 
to  open  my  chamber  door  to  them,  their  warrant  not 
being  to  break  it  open.  But  they  set  six  officers  at  my 
study  door,  who  watched  all  night,  and  kept  me  from 
my  bed  and  food ;  so  that  the  next  day  I  yielded  to 
them,  who  carried  me,  scarce  able  to  stand,  to  their 
sessions,  and  bound  me,  in  a  four  hundred  pounds'  bond, 
to  good  behavior.  I  desired  to  know  what  my  crime 
was,  and  who  were  my  accusers;  but  they  told  me  it 
was  for  no  fault,  but  to  secure  the  government  in  evil 
times  ;  and  that  they  had  a  list  of  many  suspected  per- 
sons, who  must  do  the  like  as  well  as  I.  I  desired  to 
know  for  what  I  was  numbered  with  the  suspected, 
and  by  whose  accusation ;  but  they  gave  me  good 
words,  and  would  not  tell  me.  I  told  them  I  would 
rather  they  would  send  me  to  jail  than  put  me  in  cir- 
cumstances to  wrong  others  by  being  bound  with  me 
in  bonds  that  I  was  like  to  break  to-morrow;  for  if 
there  did  but  five  persons  come  in  when  I  was  praying, 
they  would  take  it  for  a  breach  of  good  behavior.  They 
told  me  not,  if  they  came  on  other  business  unexpect- 
edly, and  not  to  a  set  meeting ;  nor  yet  if  we  did  no- 
thing contrary  to  law,  or  the  practice  of  the  cliurch. 
I  told  them  our  innocency  was  not  now  any  security 
to  us.  If  two  beggar  women  did  but  stand  in  the  street 


104  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

and  swear  that  I  spake  contrary  to  the  law,  though 
they  heard  me  not,  my  bonds  and  liberty  were  at  their 
will;  fori  myself,  lying  on  my  bed,  heard  Mr.  I.  R. 
preach  in  a  chapel  on  the  other  side  of  my  chamber, 
and  yet  one  Sibil  Dash  and  Elizabeth  Cappell  swore 
to  the  justices  that  it  was  another  that  preached ;  two 
miserable  poor  women  that  made  a  trade  of  it,  and  had 
thus  sworn  against  very  many  worthy  persons  in  Hack- 
ney and  elsewhere,  on  which  their  goods  were  seized 
for  fines.  But  to  all  this  I  received  no  answer.  I  must 
give  bond. 

"  But  all  this  is  so  small  a  part  of  my  suffering,  in 
comparison  of  what  I  bear  in  my  flesh,  that  I  could 
scarce  regard  it ;  and  it  is  small  in  comparison  of  what 
others  suffer.  Many  excellent  persons  die  in  common 
jails:  thousands  are  ruined.  That  holy  humble  man, 
Mr.  Rosewell,  is  now  under  a  verdict  for  death  as  a 
traitor  for  preaching  some  words,  on  the  witness  and 
oath  of  Hilton's  wife,  and  one  or  two  more  women, 
whose  husbands  live  professedly  on  the  trade,  for  which 
he  claims  many  hundred  or  thousand  pounds.  And  not 
only  the  man  declares,  but  many  of  his  hearers  wit- 
ness, that  no  such  words  were  spoken,  nor  any  that  did 
not  become  a  loyal,  prudent  man. 

"December  11,  I  was  forced,  in  all  my  pain  and 
weakness,  to  be  carried  to  the  sessions-house,  or  else 
my  bond  of  four  hundred  pounds  would  have  been 
judged  forfeited.  And  the  more  moderate  justices,  that 
promised  my  discharge,  would  none  of  them  be  there, 
but  left  the  work  to  Sir  William  Smith  and  the  rest, 
who  openly  declared  that  they  had  nothing  against 
me,  and  look  me  for  innocent,  but  yet  I  must  continue 
bound,  lest  others  should  expect  to  be  discharged  also, 
which  I  openly  refused.    But  my  sureties  would  be 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  105 

bound,  lest  I  should  die  in  jail,  against  my  declared 
will,  and  so  I  must  continue." 

"  January  17.  I  was  forced  again  to  be  carried  to  the 
sessions,  and  after  divers  days  good  words,  which  put 
me  in  expectation  of  freedom,  when  I  was  gone,  one 

justice,  Sir Deerham,  said  it  was  probable  that 

these  persons  solicited  for  my  liberty  that  they  might 
come  to  hear  me  in  conventicles ;  and  on  that  they 
bound  me  again  in  a  four  hundred  pounds'  bond  for 
above  a  quarter  of  a  year,  and  so  it  is  likely  to  be  till 
I  die,  or  worse ;  though  no  one  ever  accused  me  for 
any  conventicle  or  preaching  since  they  took  all  my 
books  and  goods  above  two  years  ago,  and  1,  for  the 
most  part,  keep  my  bed." 

His  greatest  trial  was  now  hastening.  His  "  Para- 
phrase on  the  New  Testament "  gave  great  offence  in 
certain  quarters,  and  was  made  the  ground  of  a  trial 
for  sedition. 

The  following  account  of  this  extraordinary  trial  and 
its  issue  are  given  by  Calamy,  and  in  a  letter  from  a 
person  who  was  present  on  the  occasion : 

"  On  the  28th  of  February  Baxter  was  committed  to 
the  King's-Bench  prison,  by  warrant  of  Lord  Chief 
Justice  Jefferies,  for  his  '  Paraphrase  on  the  New  Tes- 
tament,' which  had  been  printed  a  little  before,  and 
which  was  described  as  a  scandalous  and  seditious 
book  against  the  government.  On  his  commitment  by 
the  chief  justice's  warrant,  he  applied  for  a  habeas 
corpus,  and  having  obtained  it,  he  absconded  into  the 
country  to  avoid  imprisonment,  till  the  term  approach- 
ed. He  was  induced  to  do  this  from  the  constant  pain 
he  endured,  and  an  apprehension  that  he  could  not 
bear  the  confinement  of  a  prison. 

"  On  the  6th  of  May,  which  was  the  first  day  of  the 


106  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

term,  he  appeared  in  Westminster-Hall,  and  an  infor- 
mation was  then  drawn  up  against  him.  On  the  14lh 
of  May  he  pleaded  not  guilty  to  the  information.  On 
the  18th  of  the  same  niontli,  being  much  indisposed,  it 
was  moved  that  he  might  have  further  time  given  him 
before  his  trial,  but  this  was  denied  him.  He  moved 
for  it  by  his  counsel ;  but  Jefferies  cried  out,  in  a  pas- 
sion, '  I  will  not  give  him  a  minute's  time  more,  to  save 
his  life.  We  have  had  to  do,'  said  he,  '  with  other 
sorts  of  persons,  but  now  we  have  a  saint  to  deal  with  ; 
and  I  know  how  to  deal  with  saints  as  well  as  sinners. 
Yonder,'  said  he,  'stands  Oates  in  the  pillory,'  (as he 
actually  did  at  that  very  time  in  the  new  Palace  Yard,) 
'  and  he  says  he  suffers  for  the  truth,  and  so  says  Bax- 
ter; but  if  Baxter  did  but  stand  on  the  other  side  of 
the  pillory  with  him,  I  would  say,  two  of  the  greatest 
rogues  and  rascals  in  the  kingdom  stood  there.' 

"  On  May  30,  in  the  afternoon,  Baxter  was  brought 
to  trial  before  the  lord  chief  justice  at  Guild-hall. 
Sir  Henry  Ashurst,  \vho  would  not  forsake  his  own 
and  his  father's  friend,  stood  by  him  all  the  while. 
Baxter  came  first  into  court,  and  with  all  the  marks 
of  sincerity  and  composure,  waited  for  the  coming  of 
the  lord  chief  justice,  who  appeared  quickly  after,  with 
great  indignation  in  his  face. 

"  '  When  I  saw,'  says  an  eye  witness,  '  the  meek 
man  stand  before  the  flaming  eyes  and  fierce  looks  of 
this  bigot,  I  thought  of  Paul  standing  before  Nero.. 
The  barbarous  usage  which  he  received  drew  plenty 
of  tears  from  my  eyes,  as  well  as  from  others  of  the 
auditors  and  spectators. 

"Jefferies  no  sooner  sat  down  than  a  short  cause 
was  called  and  tried ;  after  which  the  clerk  began  to 
read  the  title  of  another  cause.    '  You  blockhead,'  said 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  107 

JefFeries,  '  the  next  cause  is  between  Richard  Baxter 
and  the  king :'  upon  which  Baxter's  cause  was  called. 

"  On  the  jury  being  sworn,  Baxter  objected  to  them, 
as  incompetent  to  his  trial,  owing  to  its  peculiar  na- 
ture. The  jurymen  being  tradesmen,  and  not  scholars, 
he  alledged  they  were  incapable  of  pronouncing  wheth- 
er his  'Paraphrase'  was  or  was  not  according  to  the 
original  text.  He  therefore  prayed  that  he  might  have 
a  jury  of  learned  men,  though  the  one-half  of  them 
should  be  papists.  This  objection,  as  might  have  been 
expected,  was  overruled  by  the  court. 

"  The  king's  counsel  opened  the  information  at  large, 
with  its  aggravations.  Mr.  Pollexfen,  Mr.  Wallop,  Mr. 
Williams,  Mr.  Rotherham,  Mr.  Atwood,  and  Mr.  Phipps, 
were  Baxter's  counsel,  and  had  been  engaged  by  Sir 
Henry  Ashurst. 

"Pollexfen  then  rose  and  addressed  the  court  and 
the  jury.  He  stated  that  he  was  counsel  for  the  pri- 
soner, and  felt  that  he  had  a  very  unusual  plea  to 
manage.  He  had  been  obliged,  he  said,  by  the  nature 
of  the  cause,  to  consult  all  our  learned  commentators, 
many  of  whom,  learned,  pious,  and  belonging  to  the 
church  of  England  too,  concurred  with  Mr.  Baxter  in 
his  paraphrase  of  those  passages  of  Scripture  which 
were  objected  to  in  the  indictment,  and  by  whose  help 
he  would  be  enabled  to  manage  his  client's  cause.  'I 
shall  begin,'  said  he,  'with  Dr.  Hammond:  and,  gen- 
tlemen, though  Mr.  Baxter  made  an  objection  against 
you,  as  not  fit  judges  of  Greek,  which  has  been  over- 
ruled, I  hope  you  understand  English  common  sense, 
and  can  read.'  To  which  the  foreman  of  the  jury 
made  a  profound  bow,  and  said,  'Yes,  sir.' 

"On  this  the  chief  justice  burst  upon  Pollexfen  like 
a  fury,  and  told  him  he  should  not  sit  there  to  hear 


108  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

him  preach.  'No,  my  lord,'  said  PolleXfen,  *I  am  coun- 
sel for  Mr,  Baxter,  and  shall  offer  nothing  but  what  is 
to  the  point.'  '  Why,  this  is  not,'  said  Jefferies,  '  that 
you  cant  to  the  jury  beforehand.'  'I  beg  your  lord- 
ship's pardon,'  said  the  counsel,  'and  shall  then  pro- 
ceed to  business.'  '  Come  then,'  said  Jefferies, '  what  do 
you  say  to  this  count?  read  it,  clerk:'  referring  to  the 
paraphrase  on  Mark,  12 :  38-40.  '  Is  he  not,  now,  an 
old  knave,  to  interpret  this  as  belonging  to  liturgies?' 
'So  do  others,'  replied  Pollexfen,  'of  the  church  of 
England,  who  would  be  loth  so  to  wrong  the  cause  of 
liturgies  as  to  make  them  a  novel  invention,  or  not  to 
be  able  to  date  them  as  early  as  the  scribes  and  pha- 
risees,'  'No,  no,  Mr.  Pollexfen,'  said  the  judge:  'they 
were  long-winded,  extempore  prayers,  such  as  they 
used  to  say  when  they  appropriated  God  to  themselves: 
"Lord,  we  are  thy  people,  thy  peculiar  people,  thy 
dear  people." '  And  then  he  clenched  his  hands  and 
lifted  up  his  eyes,  mimicking  their  manner,  and  run- 
ning on  furiously,  as  he  said  they  used  to  pray.  '  Pol- 
lexfen,' said  Jefferies,  'this  is  an  old  rogue,  who  has 
poisoned  the  world  with  his  Kidderminster  doctrine. 
Don't  we  know  how  he  preaclied  formerly,  "  Curse 
ye  Meroz ;  curse  them  bitterly  that  come  not  to  the 
help  of  the  Lord,  to  the  help  of  the  Lord  against  the 
mighty."  He  encouraged  all  the  women  and  maids 
to  bring  their  bodkins  and  thimbles  to  carry  on  their 
war  against  the  king,  of  ever  blessed  memory.  An  old 
Kchismatical  knave,  a  hypocritical  villain!' 

"Mr.  Wallop  said  that  he  conceived  the  matter  de- 
pending being  a  point  of  doctrine,  it  ought  to  be  re- 
ferred to  the  bishop,  his  ordinary  :  but  if  not,  he  hum- 
bly conceived  the  doctrine  was  innocent  and  justifiable, 
setting  aside  the  inuendos,  for  which  there  was  no 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  109 

color,  there  being  no  antecedent  to  refer  them  to, 
(i.  e.  no  bishop  or  clergy  of  the  church  of  England 
named;)  he  said  the  book  accused  contained  many 
eternal  truths:  but  they  who  drew  the  information 
were  the  libellers,  in  applying  to  the  prelates  of  tho 
church  of  England  those  severe  things  which  were; 
written  concerning  some  prelates  who  deserved  the 
characters  which  he  gave.  'My  lord,'  said  he,  'I  hum- 
bly conceive  the  bishops  Mr.  Baxter  speaks  of,  as  youi* 
lordship,  if  you  have  read  church  history,  must  con- 
fess, w^ere  the  plagues  of  the  church  and  of  the  world.' 
"Mr.  Rotherham  urged  'that  if  Mr.  Baxters  book 
had  sharp  reflections  upon  the  church  of  Rome  by 
name,  but  spake  well  of  the  prelates  of  the  church  of 
England,  it  was  to  be  presumed  that  the  sharp  reflec- 
tions were  intended  only  against  the  prelates  of  i\\r. 
church  of  Rome.'  The  lord  chief  justice  said,  'Baxter 
was  an  enemy  to  the  name  and  thing,  the  office  and 
persons  of  bishops.'  Rotherham  added,  that  Baxter 
frequently  attended  divine  service,  went  to  the  sacra- 
ment, and  persuaded  others  to  do  so  too,  as  was  cer- 
tainly and  publicly  known;  and  had,  in  the  very  book 
so  charged,  spoken  very  moderately  and  honorably  of 
the  bishops  of  the  church  of  England.' 

"  Baxter  added,  'My  lord,  I  have  been  so  moderate 
with  respect  to  the  church  of  England,  that  I  have  in- 
curred the  censure  of  many  of  the  dissenters  upon  that 
account.'  'Baxter  for  bishops!'  exclaimed  Jefferies, 
'  that  is  a  merry  conceit  indeed  :  turn  to  it,  turn  to  it. 
Upon  this  Rotherham  turned  to  a  place  where  it  is 
satd  'that  great  respect  is  due  to  those  truly  called  to 
be  bishops  among  us;  or  to  that  purpose.  'Ay,'  said 
Jefferies,  '  this  is  your  Presbyterian  cant ;  truly  called 
/,')  ^e  bishops :  that  is  himself,  and  such  rascals,  called 

I..     B.  10 


110  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

to  be  biiihops  of  Kidderminster,  and  other  such  places, 
liishops  set  apart  by  such  factious  Presbyterians  as 
liimself :  a  Kidderminster  bishop  lie  means.  ' 

"  Baxter  beginning  to  speak  again,  Jefferies  reviled 
)iim;  'Richard,  Richard,  dost  thou  think  we'll  hear 
ihee  poison  the  court  ?  Richard,  thou  art  an  old  fellow, 
an  old  knave ;  thou  hast  written  books  enough  to  load 
u  cart,  every  one  as  full  of  sedition,  I  might  say  trea- 
hon,  as  an  egg  is  of  meat.  Hadst  thou  been  whipped 
nut  of  thy  writing  trade  forty  years  ago,  it  had  been 
liappy.  Thou  pretendest  to  be  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel 
uf  peace,  and  thou  hast  one  foot  in  the  grave:  it  i.s 
lime  for  thee  to  begin  to  think  what  account  thou  iu- 
tendest  to  give.  But,  leave  thee  to  thyself,  and  I  see 
ihou'lt  go  on  as  thou  hast  begun  ;  but,  by  the  grace  of 
<iod,  I'll  look  after  thee.  I  know  thou  hast  a  mighty 
party,  and  I  see  a  great  many  of  the  brotherhood  in 
corners,  waiting  to  sec  what  will  become  of  their 
mighty  don ;  and  a  doctor  of  the  party  (looking  at  Dr. 
Bates)  at  your  elbow;  but,  by  the  grace  of  Almighty 
God,  I'll  crush  you  all.  Come,  what  do  you  say  for 
yourself,  you  old  knave?  come,  speak  up !  What  doih 
he  say  ?  I  am  not  afraid  of  you,  for  all  the  snivelling,' 
calves  you  have  about  you :'  alluding  to  some  persons 
who  were  in  tears  about  Mr.  Baxter.  'Your  lordship 
need  not  be,'  said  the  holy  man ;  '  for  I'll  not  hurt  you. 
But  these  things  will  surely  be  understood  one  day  ; 
what  fools  one  sort  of  protestants  are  made  to  perse- 
cute the  other  I'  And,  lifting  up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  he 
said,  'I  am  not  concerned  to  answer  such  stuff;  but 
am  ready  lo  produce  my  writings  for  the  confutation 
of  all  this ;  and  my  life  and  conversation  are  known 
to  many  in  this  nation.' 

"  Mr.  Rotherham  sitting  down,  Mr.  Atwood  began 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  Ill 

to  show  that  not  one  of  the  passages  mentioned  in  the 
information  ought  to  be  strained  to  the  sense  which 
was  put  upon  them  by  the  inuendos;  they  being  more 
natural  when  taken  in  a  milder  sense:  nor  could  any 
one  of  them  be  applied  to  the  prelates  of  the  church 
of  England,  without  a  very  forced  construction.  T<» 
prove  this,  he  would  have  read  some  of  the  text:  but 
Jefferies  cried  out,  'You  shan't  draw  me  into  a  con- 
venticle with  your  annotations,  nor  your  snivelling 
parson  neither.'  '  My  lord,'  said  Mr.  Atwood,  '  that  I 
may  use  the  best  authority,  permit  me  to  repeat  your 
lordship's  own  words  in  that  case.'  'No,  you  shan't,* 
said  he :  '  you  need  not  speak,  for  you  are  an  author 
already  ;  though  you  speak  and  write  impertinently.' 
Atwood  replied,  'I  can't  help  that,  my  lord,  if  my 
talent  be  no  better;  but  it  is  my  duty  to  do  my  best 
for  my  client.' 

"Jefferies  then  went  on  inveighing  against  what 
Atwood  had  published  ;  and  Atwood  justified  it  as  in 
defence  of  the  English  constitution,  declaring  that  he 
never  disowned  any  thing  that  he  had  written  Jef- 
feries several  times  ordered  him  to  sit  down;  but  he 
still  went  on.  'My  lord,' said  he,  'I  have  matter  of 
law  to  urge  for  my  client.'  He  then  proceeded  to  cite 
eeveral  cases  wherein  it  had  been  adjudged  that  words 
ought  to  be  taken  in  the  milder  sense,  and  not  to  be 
strained  by  inuendos.  'Well,'  said  Jefferies,  when  he 
had  done,  '  you  have  had  your  say.' 

"  Mr.  Williams  and  3Ir.  Pliipps  said  nothing,  for 
they  saw  it  was  to  no  purpose.  At  last  Baxter  himself 
said,  '  My  lord,  I  think  I  can  clearly  answer  all  that  is 
laid  to  my  charge,  and  I  shall  do  it  briefly.  The  sum 
is  contained  in  these  few  papers,  to  which  I  shall  add 
a  little  by  testimony  '    But  he  would  not  hear  a  word. 


112  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

At  length  the  chief  justice  summed  up  the  matter  in 
a  long  and  fulsome  harangue.  '  It  was  notoriously 
known,'  he  said,  '  there  had  been  a  design  to  ruin  the 
king  and  the  nation.  The  old  game  had  been  renewed ; 
and  this  person  had  been  the  main  incendiary.  He  is 
as  modest  now  as  can  be  ;  but  time  was,  when  no  man 
Avas  so  ready  at,  '•  Bind  your  kings  in  chains,  and  your 
nobles  in  fetters  of  iron  j"  and,  "  To  your  tents,  O 
Israel."  Gentlemen,  (with  an  oath,)  don't  let  us  be 
gulled  twice  in  an  age.'  And  when  he  concluded,  he 
told  the  jury  '  that  if  they  in  their  consciences  be- 
lieved he  meant  the  bishops  and  clergy  of  the  church 
of  England  in  the  passages  \vhich  the  information  re- 
ferred to,  and  he  could  mean  nothing  else,  they  must 
find  him  guilty.  If  not,  they  must  find  him  not  guilty." 
When  he  had  done,  Baxter  said  to  him,  '  Does  your 
lordship  think  any  jury  will  pretend  to  pass  a  verdict 
upon  me  upon  such  a  trial?'  'I'll  warrant  you,  Mr. 
Baxter,'  said  he, '  don't  you  trouble  yourself  about  that.' 

"  The  jury  immediately  laid  their  heads  together  at 
the  bar,  and  found  him  guilty.  As  he  was  going  from 
the  bar,  Baxter  told  the  lord  chief  justice,  who  had 
so  loaded  him  with  reproaches,  and  still  continued 
them,  that  a  predecessor  of  his  had  had  otiier  thoughts 
of  him  ;  upon  which  he  replied,  '  that  there  was  not 
an  honest  man  in  England  but  what  took  him  for  a 
great  knave.'  Baxter  had  subpoenaed  several  clergy- 
men, who  appeared  in  court,  but  were  of  no  use  to 
him,  through  the  violence  of  the  chief  justice.  Tht 
trial  being  over.  Sir  Henry  Ashurst  led  him  througn 
the  crowd,  and  conveyed  him  away  in  his  coach." 

This  is  a  faithful  portrait  of  Jefferies,  who  furnis>»- 
ed  Bunyan  with  the  features  of  his  chief  justice,  the 
Lord  Hategood.    Can  we  be  insensible  to  the  mercies 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  113 

we  enjoy  in  the  very  different  administration  of  justice 
ill  our  own  times? 

"  On  the  2£th  of  June  Baxter  had  judgment  given 
against  him.  He  was  fined  five  hundred  marks,  con- 
demned to  lie  in  prison  till  he  paid  it,  and  bound  to 
his  good  behavior  for  seven  years.  It  is  said  that  Jef- 
feries  proposed  a  corporal  punishment,  namely,  whip- 
ping through  the  city;  but  his  brethren  would  not  ac- 
cede to  it.  In  consequence  of  which  the  fine  and  im- 
prisonment were  agreed  to. 

''  Baxter  being  unable  to  pay  the  fine,  and  aware 
that,  though  he  did.  he  might  soon  be  prosecuted  again, 
on  some  equally  unjust  pretence,  went  to  prison.  Here 
he  was  visited  by  his  friends,  and  even  by  some  of  the 
respectable  clergy  of  the  church,  who  sympathised 
with  his  sufferings  and  deplored  the  injustice  he  re- 
ceived. He  continued  in  this  imprisonment  nearly 
two  years,  during  which  he  enjoyed  more  quietness 
than  he  had  done  for  many  years  before. 

*' An  imprisonment  of  two  years  would  have  been 
found  very  trying  and  irksome  to  most  men  ;  to  Bax- 
ter, however,  it  does  not  appear  to  have  pro.-ed  so  pain- 
ful, though  he  had  now  lost  his  beloved  wife,  who  had 
frequently  before  been  his  companion  in  solitude  and 
suffering.  His  friends  do  not  appear  to  have  neglected 
or  forgotten  him.  The  following  extract  of  a  letter  from 
the  well  known  Matthew  Henry,  presents  a  pleasing 
view  of  the  manner  in  which  he  endured  bonds  and 
afflictions  for  Christ's  sake.  It  is  addressed  to  hi>;  fa- 
ther, and  dated  the  ITih  of  November,  16S5,  when 
Baxter  had  been  several  months  confined.  Mr,  ^Vll- 
liams  justly  remarks,  '  It  is  one  of  those  pictures  of 
days  which  are  past,  which,  if  rightly  viewed,  i^i\ 
produce  lasting  and  beneficial  effects;  emotions  of  sa- 

L.  B.  10* 


114  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

cred  sorrow  for  the  iniquity  of  persecution,  and  ani- 
mating praise  that  the  demon  in  tiiese  happy  days  of 
tranquillity  is  restrained,  though  not  destroyed.' 

"  '  I  went  into  Southwark,  to  Mr.  Baxter.  I  was  to 
wait  upon  him  once  before,  and  tlien  he  was  busy.  1 
found  him  in  pretty  comfortable  circumstances,  though 
a  prisoner,  in  a  private  house  near  the  prison,  attended 
by  his  own  man  and  maid.  My  good  friend  Mr.  Samuel 
Lawrence  went  with  me.  He  is  in  as  good  health  as 
one  can  expect ;  and,  methinks,  looks  better,  and  speaks 
heartier,  than  when  I  saw  him  last.  The  token  you 
sent  he  would  by  no  means  be  persuaded  to  accept 
(and  was  almost  angry  when  I  pressed  it)  from  one 
fjected  as  well  as  himself.  He  said  he  did  not  use  to 
receive;  and  I  understand  since,  his  need  is  not  great. 

"  We  sat  with  him  about  an  hour.  He  gave  us  some 
good  counsel  to  prepare  for  trials,  and  said  the  best 
preparation  for  them  was  a  life  of  faith  and  a  constant 
course  of  self-denial.  He  thought  it  harder  constantly 
to  deny  temptations  to  sensual  appetites  and  pleasures, 
than  to  resist  one  single  temptation  to  deny  Christ  for 
fear  of  suffering  ;  the  former  requiring  such  constant 
Avatchfulness ;  however,  after  the  former,  the  latter  will 
be  the  easier.  He  said,  we  who  are  young  are  apt  to 
count  upon  great  things,  but  we  must  not  look  for 
them  ;  and  much  more  to  this  purpose.  He  said  he 
thought  dying  by  sickness  usually  much  more  painful 
and  dreadful  than  dying  a  violent  death,  especially 
considering  the  extraordinary  supports  which  those 
have  who  suffer  for  righteousness'  sake." 

Various  efforts  were  made  by  his  friends  to  have  his 
fine  remitted,  which,  after  considerable  delay,  was  ac- 
complished. 

"  On  the  24th  of  November.  1686,  Sir  Samuel  Astrey 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  115 

sent  his  warrant  to  the  keeper  of  the  King's  Bench 
prison  to  discharge  Baxter.  He  gave  sureties,  how- 
ever, for  his  good  behavior,  his  majesty  declaring,  for 
liis  satisfaction,  that  it  should  not  be  interpreted  a 
breach  of  good  behavior  for  him  to  reside  in  London, 
which  was  not  inconsistent  with  the  Oxford  act.  After 
this  release  he  continued  to  live  some  time  within  the 
rules  of  the  Bench  ;  till,  on  the  28th  of  February,  1687, 
he  removed  to  his  house  in  the  Charterhouse-yard ; 
and  again,  as  far  as  his  health  would  permit,  assisted 
Mr.  Sylvester  in  his  public  labors." 

"After  his  injurious  confinement,"  says  his  friend 
Sylvester,  in  the  funeral  sermon  which  he  preached 
for  Baxter,  "  he  settled  in  Charterhouse-yard,  in  Rut- 
landhouse,  and  bestowed  his  ministerial  assistance  gra- 
tis upon  me.  Thereupon  he  attended  every  Lord's  day 
in  the  morning,  and  every  other  Thursday  morning  at 
a  weekly  lecture.  Thus  were  we  yoked  together  in 
our  ministerial  work  and  trust,  to  our  great  mutual  sa- 
tisfaction ;  and  because  his  respects  to  me,  living  and 
dying,  were  very  great,  I  cannot  but  the  more  feel  the 
loss.  I  had  the  benefit  and  pleasure  of  always  free  ac- 
cess to  him,  and  instant  conversation  with  him  ;  and 
by  whom  could  I  profit  more  than  by  himself?  So 
ready  was  he  to  communicate  his  thoughts  to  me,  and 
so  clearly  would  he  represent  them,  as  that  I  may  truly 
say,  it  was  greatly  my  own  fault  if  he  left  me  not 
wiser  than  he  found  me,  at  all  times. 

"  After  he  had  continued  with  me  about  four  years 
and  a  half  he  was  disabled  from  going  forth  to  his  mi- 
nisterial work;  so  that  what  he  did  he  performed  for 
the  residue  of  his  life  in  his  own  hired  house,  where 
he  opened  his  doors,  morning  and  evening,  every  day, 
to  all  that  would  come  to  join  in  family  worship  with 


116  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

him;  to  whom  he  read  the  Holy  Scriptures,  from 
whence  he  '  preached  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  taught 
those  things  which  concern  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
with  all  confidence,  no  man  forbidding  him,'  Acts, 
28  :  30.  31,  even  as  one  greater  than  himself  had  done 
before  him.  But,  alas,  his  growing  diseases  and  in- 
firmities soon  forbade  this  also,  confining  him  first  to 
his  chamber,  and  after  to  his  bed.  There,  through 
pain  and  sickness,  his  body  wasted ;  but  his  soul  abode 
rational,  strong  in  faith  and  hope,  preserving  itself  in 
that  patience,  hope,  and  joy,  through  grace,  which 
gave  him  great  support,  and  kept  out  doubts  and  fears 
concerning  his  eternal  welfare."' 

He  still  labored  with  his  pen.  Even  on  the  very 
bordersof  eternity  he  was  desirous  to  improve  the  fleet- 
ing moments.  ''  He  continued  to  preach,"  Dr.  Bates 
observes,  in  his  funeral  discourse,  "so  long,  notwith- 
standing his  wasted,  languishing  body,  that  the  last 
time  he  almost  died  in  the  pulpit.  Not  long  after,  he 
felt  the  approaches  of  death,  and  was  confined  to  his 
sick-bed.  Death  reveals  the  secrets  of  the  heart;  then 
words  are  spoken  with  most  feeling  and  least  affecta- 
tion. This  excellent  man  was  the  same  in  his  life  and 
death  ;  his  last  hours  were  spent  in  preparing  others 
and  himself  to  appear  before  God.  He  said  to  his 
friends  that  visited  him,  '  You  come  hither  to  learn 
to  die;  I  am  not  the  only  person  that  must  go  this 
way.  I  can  assure  you  that  your  whole  life,  be  it  ever 
so  long,  is  little  enough  to  prepare  for  death.  Have  a 
care  of  this  vain,  deceitful  world,  and  the  lusts  of  the 
flesh  ;  be  sure  you  choose  God  for  your  portion,  hea- 
ven for  your  home,  God's  glory  for  your  end,  his  word 
for  your  rule,  and  then  you  need  never  fear  but  we 
fthall  meet  with  comfort.' 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  117 

"  Never  was  penitent  sinner  more  humble,  ne vet  was 
a  sincere  believer  more  calm  and  comfortable.  He  ac- 
knowledged himself  to  be  the  vilest  dunghill  worm 
(it  was  his  usual  expression)  that  ever  went  to  heaven. 
He  admired  the  divine  condescension  to  us,  often  say- 
ing, '  Lord,  what  is  man ;  what  am  I,  vile  worm,  to  the 
great  God  !'  Many  times  he  prayed,  '  God  be  merciful 
to  me  a  sinner,'  and  blessed  God  that  this  was  left  upon 
record  in  the  Gospel  as  an  effectual  prayer.  He  said, 
'  God  may  justly  condemn  me  for  the  best  duty  I  ever 
did ;  all  my  hopes  are  from  the  free  mercy  of  God  in 
Christ,'  which  he  often  prayed  for. 

"  After  a  slumber,  he  waived,  and  said,  '  I  shall  rest 
from  my  labor.'  A  minister  then  present  said,  '  And 
your  works  will  follow  you.'  To  whom  he  replied, 
'  No  works ;  I  will  leave  out  works,  if  God  will  grant 
me  the  other.'  When  a  friend  was  comforting  him 
with  the  remembrance  of  the  good  many  had  received 
by  his  preaching  and  writings,  he  said,  '  I  was  but  a 
pen  in  God's  hands,  and  what  praise  is  due  to  a  pen?' 

"  His  resignation  to  the  will  of  God  in  his  sharp 
sickness  was  eminent.  When  extremity  of  pain  con- 
strained him  earnestly  to  pray  to  God  for  his  release 
by  death,  he  would  check  himself:  '  It  is  not  fit  for  me 
to  prescribe — when  Thou  wilt,  what  Thou  wilt,  how 
Thou  wilt.' 

'•  Being  in  great  anguish,  he  said,  '  0,  how  unsearch- 
able are  His  ways,  and  his  paths  past  finding  out ;  the 
depths  of  his  providence  we  cannot  fathom  !'  And  to 
his  friends,  '  Do  not  think  the  worse  of  religion  for 
what  you  see  me  suffer.' 

"  Being  often  asked  by  his  friends,  how  it  was  with 
his  inward  man,  he  replied,  '  I  bless  God  I  have  a  well- 
grounded  assurance  of  my  eternal  happiness,  and  great 


118  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

peace  and  comfort  within.'  But  it  was  Ins  regret  that 
he  could  not  triumphantly  express  it,  by  reason  of  his 
extreme  pains.  He  said,  '  Flesh  must  perish,  and  we 
must  feel  the  perishing  of  it ;  and  that  though  his  judg- 
ment submitted,  yet  sense  would  still  make  him  groan.' 
"  Being  asked  whether  he  had  not  great  joy  from  his 
believing  apprehensions  of  the  invisible  state,  he  re- 
plied, 'What  else,  think  you,  Christianity  serves  for?' 
He  said,  the  consideration  of  the  Deity  in  his  glory  and 
greatness  was  too  high  for  our  thought ;  but  the  consi- 
deration of  the  Son  of  God  in  our  nature,  and  of  the 
saints  in  heaven,  whom  he  knew  and  loved,  did  much 
sweeten  and  familiarize  heaven  to  him.  The  descrip- 
tion of  it,  in  Heb.  12 :  22-24,  Avas  most  animating  to 
him  ;  'that  he  was  going  to  the  innumerable  company 
of  angels,  and  to  the  general  assembly  and  church  of 
the  first-born,  whose  names  are  written  in  heaven ; 
and  to  God,  the  Judge  of  ail,  and  to  the  spirits  of  jusi 
men  made  perfect,  and  to  Jesus  the  Mediator  of  the  new 
covenant,  and  to  the  blood  of  sprinkling  that  speaketh 
better  things  than  the  blood  of  Abel.'  That  scripture, 
he  said,  deserved  a  thousand  thousand  thoughts.  O. 
how  comfortable  is  that  promise  ;  '  Eye  hath  not  seen, 
nor  ear  heard,  neither  have  entered  into  the  heart  ol 
man,  the  things  which  God  hath  prepared  for  them 
that  love  him.'  At  another  time  he  said  that  he  found 
great  comfort  and  sweetness  in  repeating  the  words  of 
the  Lord's  prayer,  and  was  sorry  some  good  people 
were  prejudiced  against  the  use  of  it,  for  there  were  all 
necessary  petitions  for  soul  and  body  contained  in  it. 
At  other  times  he  gave  excellent  counsel  to  young  mi- 
nisters that  visited  him  ;  earnestly  prayed  God  to  bless 
their  labors,  and  make  them  very  successful  in  con* 
verting  souls  to  Christ ;  expressed  great  joy  in  the 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  119 

hope  that  God  would  do  a  great  deal  of  good  by  them  ; 
and  that  they  were  of  moderate,  peaceful  spirits. 

"  He  often  prayed  that  God  would  be  merciful  to 
this  miserable,  distracted  world ;  ana  that  he  would 
preserve  his  church  and  interest  in  it.  He  advised  his 
friends  to  beware  of  self-conceit,  as  a  sin  that  was 
likely  to  ruin  this  nation  ;  and  said,  'I  have  written  ii 
book  against  it,  which  I  am  afraid  has  done  little  good.' 
Being  asked  whether  he  had  altered  his  mind  on  con- 
troversial points,  he  said,  those  that  pleased  might 
know  his  mind  in  his  writings  ;  and  that  what  he  had 
done  was  not  for  his  own  reputation,  but  for  the  glory 
of  God. 

'•  I  went  to  him,  with  a  very  worthy  friend,  Mr.  Ma- 
ther, of  New-England,  the  day  before  he  died;  and 
bpeaking  some  comforting  words  to  him,  he  replied, '  I 
have  pain;  there  is  no  arguing  against  sense;  but  I 
liave  peace,  I  have  peace.'  I  said,  you  are  now  ap- 
proaching your  long-desired  home;  he  answered,  'I 
believe,  I  believe.'  He  said  to  Mr.  Mather,  '  I  bless 
God  that  you  have  accomplished  your  business ;  the 
Lord  prolong  your  life.'  He  expressed  his  great  wii- 
Imgness  to  die ;  and  during  his  sickness,  when  the 
question  was  asked,  '  How  he  did  ?'  his  reply  was, 
'  Almost  well.'  His  joy  was  most  remarkable,  when,  in 
his  own  apprehension,  death  was  nearest ;  and  his  spi- 
ritual joy  was  at  length  consummated  in  eternal  joy." 

"As  to  himself,  even  to  tlie  last,"  says  Mr.  Sylvester, 
"  I  never  could  perceive  his  peace  and  heavenly  hopes 
assaulted  or  disturbed.  I  have  often  heard  him  greatly 
lament  that  he  felt  no  greater  liveliness  in  what  ap- 
peared so  great  and  clear  to  him,  and  so  very  much 
desired  by  him.  As  to  the  influence  thereof  upon  his 
spirit,  in  order  to  the  sensible  refreshment  of  it,  he 


120  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

clearly  saw  what  ground  he  had  to  rejoice  in  God  ;  he 
doubted  not  of  his  title  to  heaven,  through  the  merits 
of  Christ.  He  told  me  he  knew  it  would  be  well  with 
him  when  he  was  gone.  He  wondered  to  hear  others 
speak  of  their  so  passionately  strong  desires  to  die,  and 
of  their  transports  of  spirit  when  sensible  of  their  ap- 
proaching death,  as  he  did  not  so  vividly  feel  their 
strong  consolations.  But  when  I  asked  him  whether 
much  of  tliis  was  not  to  be  resolved  into  bodily  con- 
stitution, he  said  it  might  be  so.  The  heavenly  state 
was  the  object  of  his  severe  and  daily  thoughts  and 
solemn  contemplations;  for  he  set  some  time  apart 
every  day  for  that  weighty  work.  He  knew  that  nei- 
ther grace  nor  duty  could  be  duly  exercised  without 
serious  meditation.  And  as  he  was  a  scribe  instructed 
into  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  so  he  both  could  and  did 
draw  forth  out  of  his  treasures  things  new  and  old,  to 
his  own  satisfaction  and  advantage,  as  well  as  to  the 
benefit  of  others." 

"  He  had  frequently,  before  his  death,  owned  to  me 
his  continuance  in  tiiesame  sentiments  that  he  had  ex- 
liibited  to  the  world  in  his  polemic  discourses,  especial- 
ly about  justification,  and  the  covenants  of  works  and 
grace,  &c.  And  being  asked,  at  my  request,  whether 
he  had  changed  his  former  thoughts  about  those  things;, 
liis  answer  was,  that  he  had  told  the  world  sufii- 
ciently  his  judgment  concerning  the.ii  by  words  and 
writing,  and  thither  he  referred  men.  And  then  lifting 
up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  he  uttered  these  words,  '  Lord, 
pity,  pity,  pity  the  ignorance  of  this  poor  city.' 
•  "On  Monday,  the  day  before  liis  death,  a  great 
trembling  and  coldness  awakened  nature,  and  extorted 
strong  cries  for  pity  from  Heaven  ;  which  cries  and 
agony  continued  for  some  time,  till  at  length  he  ceas- 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  121 

ed  those  cries,  and  so  lay  in  a  patient  expectation  of  his 
change.  And  being  once  asked  by  his  faithful  friend 
and  constant  attendant  npon  him  in  his  weakness, 
worthy  and  faithful  Mrs.  Bushel,  his  liousekeeper, 
whether  he  knew  her  or  no,  requesting  some  signifi- 
cation of  it  if  he  did,  he  softly  said,  'Death,  death  !' 
And  now  he  felt  the  benefit  of  his  former  preparations 
for  such  a  trying  hour.  And,  indeed,  the  last  words  that 
he  spake  to  me,  being  informed  that  I  was  come  to  see 
him,  were  these,  '0,  I  thank  him,  I  thank  him  5'  and 
turning  his  eyes  to  me,  he  said,  '  The  Lord  teach  you 
to  die.'  " 

"  On  Tuesday  morning,  about  four  o'clock,  Decem- 
ber 8th,  1691,  he  expired  ;  though  he  expected  and  de- 
sired his  dissolution  to  have  been  on  the  Lord's  day 
before,  which,  with  joy,  to  me  he  called  a  high  day,  be- 
cause of  his  desired  change  expected  then  by  him." 

A  report  was  quickly  spread  abroad  after  his  death, 
that  he  was  exercised  on  his  dying  bed  with  doubts 
respecting  the  truths  of  religion,  and  his  own  personal 
safety,  which  report  Mr.  Sylvester  thus  refutes  : 

"  Of  what  absurdity  will  not  degenerate  man  be 
guilty!  We  know  nothing  here  that  could,  in  the 
least,  minister  to  such  a  report  as  this.  I  that  was  with 
him  all  along,  have  ever  heard  him  triumphing  in  his 
heavenly  expectation,  and  ever  speaking  like  one  that 
could  never  have  thought  it  worth  a  man's  while  to  be, 
were  it  not  for  the  great  interest  and  ends  of  godliness. 
He  told  me  that  he  doubted  not  but  it  would  be  best 
lor  him,  when  he  had  left  this  life  and  was  translated 
to  the  heavenly  regions. 

"  He  owned  v;hat  he  had  written,  with  reference  to 
the  things  of  God,  to  the  very  last.  He  advised  those 
that  came  near  him^  carefully  to  mind  their  soul's  con- 

L.  B.  11 


1^2  LIFE     OF    BAXTER. 

ceras.  Tlie  shortness  of  time,  the  importance  of  eter- 
nity, the  worth  of  souls,  the  greatness  of  God,  the 
riciies  of  the  grace  of  Christ,  the  excellency  and  im- 
port of  an  heavenly  mind  and  life,  and  the  great  use- 
fulness of  the  word  and  means  of  grace  pnrsuant  to 
eternal  purposes,  ever  lay  pressingly  upon  his  own 
heart,  and  extorted  from  him  very  useful  directions 
and  encouragements  to  all  that  came  near  him,  even 
to  the  last;  insomuch  that  if  a  polemical  or  casuistical 
point,  or  any  speculation  on  philosophy  or  divinity, 
had  been  but  ollered  to  him  for  his  resolution,  after 
the  clearest  and  briefest  representation  of  liis  mind 
v.'hich  the  proposer's  satisfaction  called  for,  he  present- 
ly and  most  delightfully  fell  into  conversation  about 
what  related  to  our  Christian  hope  and  work/' 

"Baxter  was  buried  in  Christ-church,  London,  where 
the  ashes  of  his  wife  and  her  mother  had  been  deposit- 
ed. Mis  funeral  was  attended  by  a  great  number  of 
persons  of  different  ranks,  especially  of  ministers,  con- 
fjrmists  as  well  as  nonconformists,  who  were  eager 
to  testify  their  respect  for  one  of  whom  it  might  have 
been  said  with  equal  truth,  as  of  the  intrepid  reformer 
r)f  the  north,  'There  lies  tlie  man  who  never  feared 
the  face  of  man.'" 

In  his  last  will,  made  two  years  before  his  death,  he 
says,  "  I,  Richard  Baxter,  of  London,  clerk,  an  un- 
worthy servant  of  Jesus  Christ,  drawing  to  the  end  of 
this  transitory  life,  having,  through  God's  great  mercy, 
the  free  use  of  my  understanding,  do  make  this  my 
last  will  and  testament,  revoking  all  other  wills  for- 
merly made  by  me.  My  spirit  I  commit,  with  trust 
and  hope  of  the  heavenly  felicity,  into  the  hands  of 
Jesus,  my  glorified  Redeemer  and  Intercessor  ;  and, 
by  his  mediation,  into  the  hands  of  Cod  my  reconcil- 


LIFE     OF    BAXTER.  123 

ed  Father,  the  infinite  eternal  Spirit,  Liglit,  Life,  and 
Love,  most  great,  and  wise,  and  good,  the  God  of  na- 
ture, grace,  and  glory  ;  of  wliom,  and  through  whom, 
and  to  whom  are  all  things ;  my  absolute  Owner,  Ru- 
ler, Benefactor,  whose  I  am,  and  whom  I,  though  im- 
perfectly, serve,  seek,  and  trust;  to  whom  be  glory  for 
ever,  amen.  To  him  I  render  the  most  humble  thanks, 
that  he  hath  filled  up  my  life  with  abundant  mercy, 
and  pardoned  my  sins  by  the  merits  of  Christ,  and 
vouchsafed,  by  his  Spirit,  to  renew  me  and  seal  me  as 
his  own  ;  and  to  moderate  and  bless  to  me  my  long 
sufferings  in  the  flesh,  and  at  last  to  sweeten  them  by 
his  own  interest  and  comforting  approbation."  He 
bequeathed  his  books  to  "  poor  scholars,"  and  the  resi- 
due of  his  property  to  the  poor. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

HIS    PERSON' — VIEWS    OF    HIMSELF,    AND    GENERAL 
CHARACTER. 

Having  proceeded  to  the  grave,  and  committed  his 
"remains  to  their  long  and  final  resting-place,  it  will 
be  proper  to  present  the  views  which  were  formed  of 
his  character,  both  by  himself  and  friends. 

"  His  person,"  Mr.  Sylvester  states,  "  was  tall  and 
slender,  and  stooped  much;  his  countenance  composed 
and  grave,  somewhat  inclining  to  smile.  He  had  a 
piercing  eye,  a  very  articulate  speech,  and  his  deport- 
ment rather  plain  than  complimental.   He  had  a  great 


124  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

command  over  his  thoughts.  His  character  answered 
the  description  given  of  liini  by  a  learned  man  dis- 
senting from  him,  after  discourse  with  him  ;  that  '  he 
could  say  what  he  would,  and  he  could  prove  what  he 
said.'" 

Some  few  years  before  his  death,  Baxter  took  a  mi- 
nute and  extensive  survey  of  his  own  character,  and 
committed  it  to  paper.  From  this  paper  the  following 
extracts  are  taken  : — 

"  As  it  is  soui-experiments  which  those  that  urge  me 
to  this  kind  of  writing  expect  I  should  especially  com- 
municate to  others,  and  I  have  said  little  of  God's  deal- 
ing with  my  soul  since  the  time  of  my  younger  years, 
I  shall  only  give  the  reader  what  is  necessary  to  ac- 
quaint him  truly  what  change  God  has  made  upon  my 
mind  and  heart  since  those  earlier  times,  and  wherein 
I  now  differ  in  judgment  and  disposition  from  my  for- 
mer self.  And,  for  any  more  particular  account  of 
heart-occurrences,  and  God's  operations  on  me,  1  think 
it  somewhat  unsuitable  to  recite  them  ;  seeing  God's 
dealings  are  much  the  same  with  all  his  servants  in  the 
main,  and  the  points  M'herein  he  varieth  are  usually  so 
small,  that  I  think  such  not  proper  to  be  repeated.  Nor 
have  I  any  thing  extraordinary  to  glory  in,  which  is 
not  common  to  the  rest  of  my  brethren,  who  have  the 
same  Spirit,  and  are  servants  of  llie  same  Lord.  Ana 
the  true  reason  M'hy  1  do  adventure  so  far  upon  the 
censure  of  the  world  as  to  tell  them  wherein  the  case 
is  altered  with  me,  is,  that  I  may  j)revent  young  inex- 
perienced Christians  from  being  over-confident  in  their 
first  apprehensions,  or  overvaluing  their  first  degrees 
of  grace,  or  too  much  applauding  and  following  unfur- 
nished inexperienced  men,  and  that  they  may  be  in 
some  measure  directed  what  mind  and  course  of  life  to 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  125 

prefer,  by  the  judgment  of  one  that  has  tried  both  be- 
fore them. 

"  The  temper  of  my  mind  has  somewhat  altered 
with  the  temper  of  my  body.  When  I  was  young,  1 
was  more  vigorous,  affectionate,  and  fervent  in  preach- 
ing, conference,  and  prayer,  than  ordinarily  I  can  be 
now  ;  my  style  was  more  extemporary  and  lax,  but  by 
the  advantage  of  affection,  and  a  very  familiar  moving 
voice  and  utterance,  my  preaching  then  did  more  affect 
the  auditory  than  many  of  the  last  years  before  I  gave 
over  preaching  ;  but  yet  what  I  delivered  was  much 
more  raw,  and  had  more  passages  that  would  not  bear 
the  trial  of  accurate  judgments,  and  my  discourses 
had  both  less  substance  and  less  judgment  than  of  late. 

"In  my  younger  years  my  trouble  for  sin  was  most 
about  my  actual  failings,  in  thought,  word,  or  action; 
now  I  am  much  more  troubled  for  inward  defects,  and 
omission  or  want  of  the  vital  duties  or  graces  in  the 
soul.  My  daily  trouble  is  so  much  for  my  ignorance 
of  God,  and  weakness  of  belief,  and  want  of  greater 
love  to  God,  and  strangeness  to  him  and  to  the  life  to 
come,  and  want  of  a  greater  willingness  to  die,  and  ot 
a  longing  to  be  with  God  in  heaven, — that  I  take  not 
some  immoralities,  though  very  great,  to  be  in  them- 
selves so  great  and  odious  sins,  if  they  could  be  found  se- 
parate from  these.  Had  I  all  the  riches  of  the  world, 
how  gladly  should  I  give  them  for  a  fuller  knowledge, 
belief,  and  love  of  God  and  everlasting  glory  !  These 
wants  are  the  greatest  burdens  of  my  life,  which 
often  make  my  life  itself  a  burden.  And  I  cannot  find 
any  hope  of  reaching  so  high  in  these  while  I  am  in 
the  flesh,  as  I  once  hoped  before  this  time  to  have  at- 
tained ;  which  makes  me  the  more  weary  of  this  sinful 
L.  B.  U* 


126  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

world,  which  is  honored  with  so  httle  of  the  know 
ledge  of  God. 

"  Heretofore  I  placed  much  of  my  religion  in  ten- 
derness of  heart,  and  grieving  for  sin,  and  penitential 
tears;  and  less  of  it  in  the  love  of  God,  and  studying 
his  love  and  goodness,  and  in  his  joyful  praises,  than 
I  now  do.  Then  I  was  little  sensible  of  the  greatness 
and  excellency  of  love  and  praise,  though  I  coldly 
spake  the  same  words  in  its  commendation  as  I  now 
do.  And  now  I  am  less  troubled  for  want  of  grief  and 
tears,  though  I  more  value  humility,  and  refuse  not 
needful  humiliation  ;  but  my  conscience  now  looks  at 
love  and  delight  in  God,  and  praising  him,  as  the  height 
of  all  my  religious  duties,  for  which  it  is  that  I  value 
and  use  the  rest. 

"My  judgment  is  much  more  for  frequent  and  seri- 
ous meditation  on  the  heavenly  blessedness,  than  it 
was  in  my  younger  days.  I  then  thought  that  ser- 
mons on  the  attributes  of  God  and  the  joys  of  hea- 
ven were  not  the  most  excellent ;  and  was  wont  'o 
say,  '  Every  body  knows  this,  that  God  is  great  and 
good,  and  that  heaven  is  a  blessed  place  ;  I  had  rather 
hear  how  I  may  attain  it.'  And  nothing  pleased  me  so 
well  as  the  doctrine  of  regeneration,  and  the  marks  of 
sincerity,  because  these  subjects  were  suitable  to  me  in 
that  state ;  but  now  I  had  rather  read,  hear,  or  medi- 
tate on  God  and  heaven,  than  on  any  other  subject ;  for 
I  perceive  that  it  is  the  object  that  changes  and  elevates 
the  mind,  which  will  be  like  what  it  most  frequently 
feeds  upon  ;  and  that  it  is  not  only  useful  to  our  com- 
fort to  be  much  in  heaven  in  our  believing  thoughts, 
but  that  it  must  animate  all  our  other  duties,  and  for- 
tify ua  against  every  temptation  and  sinj  and  that  a 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  127 


heavenly. 

'*I  was  once  wont  to  meditate  most  on  my  own 
heart,  and  to  dwell  all  at  home,  and  look  little  higher. 
I  was  still  poring  either  on  my  sins  or  wants,  or  exa- 
mining my  sincerity ;  but  now,  though  I  am  greatly 
convinced  of  the  need  of  heart-acquaintance  and  em- 
ployment, yet  I  see  more  need  of  a  higher  work  j  and 
that  I  should  look  oftener  upon  Christ,  and  God,  and 
heaven,  than  upon  my  own  heart.  At  home  I  can  find 
distempers  to  trouble  me,  and  some  evidences  of  my 
peace  ;  but  it  is  above  that  I  must  find  matter  of  de- 
hght  and  joy,  and  love  and  peace  itself.  Therefore  I 
would  have  one  thought  at  home,  upon  myself  and 
sins,  and  many  thoughts  above,  upon  the  high,  and 
amiable,  and  beatifying  objects. 

"  Heretofore  1  knew  much  less  than  now,  and  yet 
was  not  half  so  much  acquainted  with  my  ignorance. 
I  had  a  great  delight  in  the  daily  new  discoveries 
which  I  made,  and  in  the  light  which  shined  upon  me, 
like  a  man  that  comes  into  a  country  where  he  never 
was  before ;  but  I  little  knew  either  how  imperfectly  I 
understood  those  very  points,  whose  discovery  so  much 
delighted  me,  nor  how  much  might  be  said  against 
them,  nor  how  many  things  I  was  yet  a  stranger  to; 
but  now  I  find  far  greater  darkness  upon  all  things, 
and  perceive  how  very  little  it  is  that  we  know  in  com- 
parison of  that  which  we  are  ignorant  of,  and  I  have 
far  meaner  thoughts  of  my  own  understanding,  though 
I  must  needs  know  that  it  is  better  furnished  than  it 
was  then. 

"  I  now  see  more  good  and  more  evil  in  all  men 
than  heretofore  I  did.  I  see  that  good  men  are  not  so 
good  as  I  once  thought  they  were,  but  have  more  im- 


128  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

perfections;  and  that  nearer  approach,  and  fuller  trial, 
doih  make  the  best  appear  more  weak  and  faulty  than 
their  admirers  at  a  distance  think.  And  I  find  that  few 
are  so  bad  as  either  their  malicious  enemies  or  censo- 
rious separating  professors  do  imagine. 

"  I  less  admire  gifts  of  utterance  and  bare  profes- 
sion of  religion  than  I  once  did  ;  and  have  much  more 
charity  for  many,  who,  by  the  want  of  gifts,  do  make 
an  obscurer  profession  than  they.  I  once  thought  that 
almost  all  that  could  pray  movingly  and  fluently,  and 
talk  well  of  religion,  were  saints.  But  more  observa- 
tion has  opened  to  me  what  odious  crimes  may  con- 
sist with  high  profession;  and  I  have  met  with  divers 
obscure  persons,  not  noted  for  any  extraordinary  pro- 
fession or  forwardness  in  religion,  but  only  to  live  a 
quiet,  blameless  life,  whom  I  have  after  found  to  have 
long  lived,  as  far  as  I  could  discern,  a  truly  godly  and 
sanctified  life;  only  their  prayers  and  duties  were,  by 
accident,  kept  secret  from  other  men's  observation. 
Yet  he  that,  upon  this  pretence,  would  confound  the 
godly  and  the  ungodly,  ma}'  as  well  go  about  to  lay 
heaven  and  hell  together. 

"  I  am  not  so  narrow  in  my  special  love  as  hereto- 
fore. Being  less  censorious,  and  talking  more  than  I 
did  for  saints,  it  must  needs  follow  that  1  love  more  as 
saints  than  I  did  before. 

"  I  am  much  more  sensible  how  prone  many  young 
professors  are  to  spiritual  pride  and  self-conceitedness, 
and  unruliness  and  division,  and  so  to  prove  the  grief 
of  their  teachers,  and  firebrands  in  the  church  ;  and 
how  much  of  a  minister's  work  lies  in  preventing  this, 
and  humbling  and  confirming  such  young  inexperi- 
enf;ed  professors,  and  keeping  them  in  order  in  their 
progress  in  religion. 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  129 

"  I  am  more  deeply  afflicted  for  the  disagreements 
of  Christians,  than  I  was  when  I  was  a  younger  Chris- 
tian. Except  the  case  of  the  infidel  world,  nothing  is 
so  sad  and  grievous  to  my  thoughts  as  the  case  of  the 
divided  churches ;  and  therefore  I  am  more  deeply 
sensible  of  the  sinfulness  of  those  prelates  and  pastors 
of  the  churches  who  are  the  principal  cause  of  these 
divisions.  O  how  many  millions  of  souls  are  kept  by 
them  in  ignorance  and  ungodliness,  and  deluded  by 
faction,  as  if  it  were  true  religion  !  How  is  the  conver- 
sion of  infidels  hindered  by  them,  and  Christ  and  re- 
ligion heinously  dishonored ! 

"  I  am  much  less  regardful  of  the  approbation  ol 
man,  and  set  much  lighter  by  contempt  or  applause, 
than  I  did  long  ago.  I  am  often  suspicious  that  this 
is  not  only  from  the  increase  of  self-denial  and  humi- 
lity, but  partly  from  my  being  glutted  and  surfeited 
with  human  applause;  and  all  worldly  things  appear 
most  vain  and  unsatisfactory  when  we  have  tried  them 
most.  But  as  far  as  I  can  perceive,  the  knowledge  of 
man's  nothingness,  and  God's  transcendent  greatness, 
with  whom  it  is  that  I  have  most  to  do,  and  the  sense 
of  the  brevity  of  human  things,  and  the  nearness  of 
eternity,  are  the  principal  causes  of  this  effect,  which 
some  have  imputed  to  self-conceitedness  and  mo- 
roseness. 

"  I  am  more  and  more  pleased  with  a  solitary  life; 
and  though,  in  a  way  of  self-denial,  I  could  submit  to 
the  most  public  life,  for  the  service  of  God,  when  he 
requires  it,  and  would  not  be  unprofitable  that  I  might 
be  private  ;  yet,  I  must  confess,  it  is  much  more  pleas- 
ing to  myself  to  be  retired  from  the  world,  and  to  have 
very  little  to  do  with  men,  and  to  converse  with  God 
and  conscience,  and  good  books. 


130  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

"Though  I  was  never  much  tempted  to  the  shi  of 
covetousness,  yet  my  fear  of  dying  was  wont  to  tell 
me  that  I  was  not  suthciently  loosened  from  the  world. 
But  I  find  that  it  is  comparatively  very  easy  to  me  to 
be  loose  from  this  world,  but  hard  to  live  by  faith 
above.  To  despise  earth  is  easy  to  me ;  but  not  so  easy 
to  be  acquainted  and  conversant  with  heaven.  1  have 
nothing  in  this  world  which  I  could  not  easily  let  go; 
but,  to  get  satisfying  apprehensions  of  the  other  world 
is  the  great  and  grievous  difficulty. 

"  I  am  much  more  apprehensive  than  long  a§:o  of 
the  odiousness  and  danger  of  the  sin  of  pride:  scarce 
any  sin  appears  more  odious  to  me.  Having  daily 
more  acquaintance  with  the  lamentable  naughtiness 
and  frailty  of  man,  and  of  the  mischiefs  of  that  sin, 
and  especially  in  matters  spiritual  and  ecclesiastical, 
I  think,  so  far  as  any  man  is  proud,  he  is  kin  to  the 
devil,  and  a  stranger  to  God  and  to  himself.  It  is  a 
wonder  that  it  should  be  a  possible  sin,  to  men  that 
still  carry  about  with  them,  in  soul  and  body,  such 
humbling  matter  of  remedy  as  we  all  do. 

"  I  more  than  ever  lament  the  unhappiness  of  the 
nobility,  gentry,  and  great  ones  of  the  world,  who  live 
in  such  temptation  to  sensuality,  curiosity,  and  wast- 
ing of  their  time  about  a  multitude  of  little  things ;  and 
whose  lives  are  too  often  the  transcript  of  the  sins  of 
Sodom — pride,  fullness  of  bread,  and  abundance  of  idle- 
ness, and  want  of  compassion  to  the  poor.  And  I  more 
value  the  life  of  the  poor  laboring  man,  but  especially 
of  him  that  hath  neither  poverty  nor  riches. 

"  I  am  much  more  sensible  than  heretofore,  of  the 
breadth,  and  length,  and  depth  of  the  radical,  univer- 
sal, and  odious  sin  of  selfishnes.s,  and  therefore  have 
written  so  much  against  it ;  and  of  the  excellency  and 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  131 

necessity  of  self-denial,  and  of  a  public  mind,  and  of 
loving  our  neighbor  as  ourselves. 

"  I  am  more  and  more  sensible  that  most  controver- 
sies have  more  need  of  right  stating  than  of  debating  ; 
and  if  my  skill  be  increased  in  any  thing,  it  is  in  nar- 
rowing controversies  by  explication,  and  separating 
the  real  from  the  verbal,  and  proving  to  many  con- 
tenders that  they  in  fact  differ  less  than  they  think 
they  do, 

"I  am  more  solicitous  tlian  I  have  been  about  my 
duty  to  God,  and  less  solicitous  about  his  dealings  with 
me,  as  being  assured  that  he  will  do  all  things  well, 
acknowledging  the  goodness  of  ail  the  declarations  of 
his  holiness,  even  in  the  punishment  of  man,  and 
knowing  that  there  is  no  rest  but  in  the  will  and  good- 
ness of  God. 

"Though  my  habitual  judgment,  and  resolution, 
and  scope  of  life  be  still  the  same,  j'-et  I  tind  a  great 
mutability  as  to  actual  apprehensions  and  degrees  of 
grace;  and  consequently  find  that  so  mutable  a  thing 
as  the  mind  of  man  would  never  keep  itself,  if  God 
were  not  its  keeper. 

"Thus  much  of  the  alterations  of  my  soul,  since 
my  younger  years,  I  thought  best  to  give  the  reader, 
instead  of  all  those  experiences  and  actual  motions  and 
affections  which  I  suppose  him  rather  to  have  expec- 
ted an  account  of.  And  having  transcribed  thus  much 
of  a  life  which  God  has  read,  and  conscience  has  read, 
and  must  further  read,  I  humbly  lament  it,  and  beg 
pardon  of  it,  as  sinful,  and  too  unequal  and  unprofit- 
able. And  I  warn  the  reader  to  amend  that  in  his 
own,  wdiich  he  finds  to  have  been  amiss  in  mine;  con- 
fessing, also,  that  much  has  been  amiss  which  I  have 
not  here  particularly  mentioned,  and  that  I  have  not 


132  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

lived  according  to  the  abundant  mercies  of  the  Lord. 
But  what  I  have  recorded,  has  been  especially  to  per- 
form my  vows,  and  to  declare  his  praise  to  all  gen- 
erations, who  has  filled  my  days  with  his  invaluable 
favors,  and  bound  me  to  bless  his  name  for  ever. 

"But  having  mentioned  the  changes  which  I  think 
were  for  the  better,  I  must  add,  that  as  I  confessed 
many  of  my  sins  before,  so,  I  have  been  since  guilty  of 
many,  which,  because  materially  they  seemed  small, 
have  had  the  less  resistance,  and  yet,  on  the  review,  do 
trouble  me  more  than  if  they  had  been  greater,  done 
in  ignorance.  It  can  be  no  small  sin  which  is  com- 
mitted against  knowledge,  and  conscience,  and  deli- 
beration, wiiatever  excuse  it  have.  To  have  sinned 
whilst  I  preached  and  wrote  against  sin,  and  had  such 
abundant  and  great  obligations  from  God,  and  made 
so  many  promises  against  it,  lays  me  very  low ;  not 
so  much  in  fear  of  hell,  as  in  great  displeasure  against 
myself,  and  such  self-abhorrence  as  would  cause  re- 
venge against  myself,  were  it  not  forbidden.  When 
God  forgives  mo,  I  cannot  for'^^ive  myself;  especially 
for  any  rash  words  or  deeds,  by  which  I  have  seemed 
injurious,  and  less  tender  and  kind  than  I  should  have 
been  to  my  near  and  dear  relations,  whose  love  abun 
dantly  obliged  me;  when  such  are  dead,  though  we 
never  differed  in  point  of  interest,  or  any  great  matter, 
every  sour  or  cross  provoking  word  which  I  gave  them 
makes  me  almost  irreconcileable  to  myself. 

"  I  mention  all  these  faults  that  they  may  be  a  warn- 
ing to  others  to  take  heed,  as  they  call  on  myself  for 
repentance  and  watchfulness.  O  Lord,  for  the  merits, 
and  sacrifice,  and  intercession  of  Christ,  be  merciful 
to  me  a  sinner,  and  forgive  my  known  and  unknown 
sins ! " 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  133 

Dr  Bales  has  drawn  a  full-length  portrait  of  the 
character  of  his  venerable  friend  in  his  funeral  sermon, 
from  which  some  extracts  will  now  be  given. 

"He  had  not  the  advantage  of  academical  educa- 
tion ;  but,  by  the  Divine  blessing  upon  his  rare  dex- 
terity and  diligence,  his  eminence  in  sacred  knowledge 
was  such  as  few  in  the  university  ever  arrive  to." 

"  Conversion  is  the  excellent  work  of  Divine  grace: 
the  efficacy  of  the  means  is  from  the  Supreme  Mover. 
But  God  usually  makes  those  ministers  successful  in 
that  blessed  work,  whose  principal  design  and  delight 
is  to  glorify  him  in  the  saving  of  souls.  This  was  the 
reigning  affection  in  his  heart;  and  he  was  extraordi- 
narily qualified  to  obtain  his  end. 

"  His  prayers  were  an  effusion  of  the  most  lively 
melting  expressions,  growing  out  of  his  intimate  ar- 
dent affections  to  God  :  from  the  abundance  of  his 
heart,  his  lips  spake.  His  soul  took  wing  for  heaven, 
and  wrapped  up  the  souls  of  others  with  him.  Never 
did  I  see  or  hear  a  holy  minister  address  himself  to 
God  with  more  reverence  and  humility,  with  respect 
to  his  glorious  greatness  ;  never  with  more  zeal  and 
fervency,  correspondent  to  the  infinite  moment  of  his 
requests ;  nor  with  more  filial  affiance  in  the  Divine 
mercy." 

As  a  specimen  of  his  prayers,  two  quotations  from 
liis  published  writings  may  be  given.  Addressing  the 
Divine  Spirit,  he  says,  "  As  thou  art  the  Agent  and 
Advocate  of  Jesus  my  Lord,  O  plead  his  cause  effec- 
tually in  my  soul  against  the  suggestions  of  Satan  and 
my  unbelief;  and  finish  his  healing,  saving  work,  and 
let  not  the  flesh  or  world  prevail.  Be  in  me  the  resi- 
dent witness  of  my  Lord,  the  Author  of  my  prayers, 
the  Spirit  of  adoption,  the  seal  of  God,  and  the  earnest 

L.   B.  12 


134  LIFE    OF     BAXTER. 

of  mine  inheritance.  Let  not  my  nights  be  no  long,  and 
my  days  so  short,  nor  sin  echpse  those  beams  which 
liave  often  illuminated  my  soul.  Without  these,  books 
are  senseless  scrawls,  studies  are  dreams,  learning  is 
a  glow-worm,  and  wit  is  but  wantonness,  impertinence 
cind  folly.  Transcribe  those  sacred  precepts  on  ir.y 
heart,  which  by  thy  dictates  and  inspirations  are  re- 
corded in  thy  holy  word.  I  refuse  not  thy  help  for 
tears  and  groans ;  but  O  slied  abroad  that  love  upon  my 
lieart,  which  may  keep  it  in  a  continual  life  of  love. 
Teach  me  the  work  wliich  I  must  do  in  heaven ;  re- 
fresh my  soul  with  the  delights  of  holiness,  and  the 
joys  which  arise  from  the  believing  hopes  of  the  ever- 
lasting joys.  Exercise  my  heart  and  tongue  in  the 
lioly  praises  of  my  Lord.  Strengthen  me  in  sufferings; 
and  conquer  the  terrors  of  death  and  hell.  Make  me 
the  more  heavenly,  by  how  much  the  faster  I  am  hast- 
ening to  heaven ;  and  let  my  last  thoughts,  words,  and 
works  on  earth,  be  most  like  to  tliose  which  shall  be 
my  first  in  the  state  of  glorious  immortality;  where 
the  kingdom  is  delivered  up  to  the  Fatlier,  and  God 
will  for  ever  be  all,  and  in  all;  of  whom,  and  tlirougli 
whom,  and  to  whom,  are  all  tilings,  to  whom  be  glo- 
ry for  ever.    Amen.'' 

Another  specimen  may  be  given  from  Baxter's  con- 
clusion of  his  work  on  the  "Saints'  Rest." 

"  O  Thou,  the  merciful  Father  of  spirits,  the  attrac- 
tive of  love,  and  ocean  of  delight !  draw  up  these  dros- 
sy hearts  unto  thyself,  and  keep  tliem  there  till  llu;y 
are  spiritualized  and  refined  !  Second  thy  servant's 
weak  endeavors,  and  persuade  those  tiiat  read  these 
lines  to  the  practice  of  this  delightful,  heavenly  work! 
O  !  suffer  not  the  soul  of  thy  most  unworthy  servant 
to  be  a  stranger  to  those  joys  which  he  describes  to 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  135 

Others  ;  but  keep  me,  while  I  remain  on  earth,  in  daily 
breathing  after  thee,  and  in  a  believing,  affectionate 
walking  with  thee.  And,  when  thou  comest,  let  me  be 
found  so  doing ;  not  serving  my  flesh,  nor  asleep  with 
my  lamp  unfurnished,  but  waiting  and  longing  for  my 
Lord's  return.  Let  those  who  shall  read  these  pages, 
not  merely  read  the  fruit  of  my  studies,  but  the  breath- 
ing of  my  active  hope  and  love ;  that  if  my  heart  were 
open  to  their  view,  they  might  there  read  thy  love 
most  deeply  engraven  with  a  beam  from  the  face  of 
the  Son  of  God ;  and  not  find  vanity,  or  lust,  or  pride 
within,  where  the  words  of  life  appear  without ;  that 
so  these  lines  may  not  witness  against  me ;  but  pro- 
ceeding from  the  heart  of  the  writer,  may  they  be 
effectual,  through  thy  grace,  upon  the  heart  of  the 
reader,  and  so  be  the  savior  of  life  to  both." 

Dr.  Bates  says  :  "  In  his  sermons  there  was  a  rare 
union  of  arguments  and  motives  to  convince  the  mind 
and  gain  the  heart.  All  the  fountains  of  reason  and 
persuasion  were  open  to  his  discerning  eye.  There 
was  no  resisting  the  force  of  his  discourses,  without 
denying  reason  and  Divine  revelation.  He  had  a  mar- 
vellous felicity  and  copiousness  in  speaking.  There 
M'as  a  noble  negligence  in  his  style;  for  his  great  mind 
could  not  stoop  to  the  affected  eloquence  of  words :  he 
despised  flashy  oratory,  but  his  expressions  were  clear 
and  powerful ;  so  convincing  the  understanding,  so 
entering  into  the  soul,  so  engaging  the  affections,  that 
those  were  as  deaf  as  adders  who  were  not  charmed 
by  so  wise  a  charmer.  He  was  animated  by  the  Holy 
Spirit,  and  breathed  celestial  fire,  to  inspire  heat  and 
iife  into  dead  sinners,  and  to  melt  the  obdurate  in  their 
frozen  tomF)3.  Methinks  I  still  hear  him  speak  those 
powerful  words :    '  A  wretch  that  is  condemned  to  die 


13G  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

to-morrow  cannot  forget  it:  and  yet  poor  sinners,  that 
continually  are  uncertain  to  live  an  hour,  and  certain 
speedily  to  see  the  majesty  of  the  Lord,  to  their  incon- 
ceivable joy  or  terror,  as  sure  as  they  now  live  on 
earth,  can  forget  these  things,  for  which  they  have 
their  memory ;  and  which  one  would  think,  should 
drown  the  matters  of  this  world,  as  the  report  of  a 
cannon  does  a  whisper,  or  as  the  sun  obscures  the  poor- 
est glow-worm.  O  wonderful  stupidity  of  the  unrenew- 
ed soul !  O  wonderful  folly  and  madness  of  the  ungod- 
ly !  That  ever  men  can  forget— I  say  again,  that  they 
can  forget  eternal  joy,  eternal  wo,  and  the  eternal  God, 
and  the  place  of  their  eternal  unchangeable  abodes, 
when  they  stand  even  at  the  door ;  and  there  is  but 
that  thin  veil  of  flesh  between  them  and  that  amazing 
sight,  that  eternal  gulf,  and  they  are  daily  dying  and 
stepping  in." 

To  this  may  be  added  a  quotation  from  a  sermon 
preached  before  the  judges  at  the  assizes  :  ''  Honora- 
ble, worshipful,  and  well-beloved,  it  is  a  weighty  em- 
ployment that  occasions  your  meeting  here  to-day. 
The  estates  and  lives  of  men  are  in  your  hands.  But 
it  is  another  kind  of  judgment  which  you  are  all 
hastening  towards  ;  when  judges  and  juries,  the  ac- 
cusers and  the  accused,  must  all  appear  upon  equal 
terms,  for  the  final  decision  of  a  far  greater  cause. 
The  case  that  is  then  and  there  to  be  determined,  is  not 
whether  you  shall  have  lands  or  no  lands,  life  or  no 
life,  in  our  natural  sense  ;  but  whether  you  shall  have 
heaven  or  hell,  salvation  or  damnation,  and  endless  life 
of  glory  with  God  and  the  Redeemer,  and  the  angels 
of  heaven,  or  an  endless  life  of  torment  with  devils 
and  ungodly  men.  As  sure  as  you  now  sit  on  those 
seats,  you  shall  shortly  all  appear  before  the  Judge  ol 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  137 

all  the  world,  and  tliere  receive  an  irreversible  sen- 
tence to  an  unchangeable  state  of  happiness  or  misery. 
This  is  the  great  business  that  should  presently  call  up 
your  most  serious  thoughts,  and  set  all  the  powers  of 
your  souls  on  work  for  the  most  effectual  preparation ; 
that,  if  you  are  men,  you  may  acquit  yourselves  like 
men,  for  the  preventing  of  that  dreadful  doom  which 
miprepared  souls  must  there  expect.  The  greatest  of 
your  secular  affairs  are  but  dreams  and  toys  to  this. 
Were  you  at  every  assize  to  determine  causes  of  no 
lower  value  than  the  crowns  and  kingdoms  of  the  mo- 
narchs  of  the  earth,  it  were  but  as  children's  games  to 
this.  If  any  man  of  you  believe  not  this,  he  is  worse 
than  the  devil  that  tempteth  him  to  unbelief;  and  let 
him  know  that  unbelief  is  no  prevention,  nor  will  put 
off  the  day,  or  hinder  his  appearance ;  but  will  render 
certain  his  condemnation  at  that  appearance. 

"  He  that  knows  the  law  and  the  fact,  may  know  be- 
fore your  assize  what  will  become  of  every  prisoner,  if 
the  proceedings  be  all  just,  as  in  our  case  they  will  cer- 
tainly be.  Christ  will  judge  according  to  his  laws;  know, 
therefore,  whom  the  law  condemns  or  justifies,  and 
you  may  know  whom  Christ  will  condemn  or  justify. 
And  seeing  all  this  is  so,  does  it  not  concern  us  all  to 
make  a  speedy  trial  of  ourselves  in  preparation  for  this 
final  trial  ?  I  shall,  for  your  own  sakes,  therefore,  take 
the  boldness,  as  the  officer  of  Christ,  to  summon  you  to 
appear  before  yourselves,  and  keep  an  assize  this  day 
in  your  own  souls,  and  answer  at  the  bar  of  conscience 
to  what  shall  be  charged  upon  you.  Fear  not  the  trial ; 
for  it  is  not  conclusive,  final,  or  a  peremptory  irrever- 
sible sentence  that  must  now  pass.  Yet  slight  it  not ; 
for  it  is  a  necessary  preparative  to  that  which  is  final 
and  irreversible." 

L.   B.  12* 


138  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

After  describing  the  vanities  of  the  world,  he  bursts 
forth :  "  What !  shall  we  prefer  a  mole-hill  before  a 
kingdom?  x\  shadow  before  the  substance?  An  hour 
before  eternity?  Nothing  before  all  things?  Vanity 
and  vexation  before  felicity  ?  The  cross  of  Christ  hath 
set  up  such  a  sun  as  quite  darkeneth  the  light  of 
worldly  glory.  Though  earth  were  something,  if  there 
were  no  better  to  be  had,  it  is  nothing  when  heaven 
standeth  by." 

Dr.  Bates  further  remarks :  "  Besides,  his  wonderful 
diligence  in  catechising  the  particular  families  under 
his  charge  was  exceeding  useful  to  plant  religion  in 
them.  Personal  instruction,  and  application  of  divine 
truths,  has  an  excellent  advantage  and  efficacy  to  in- 
sinuate and  infuse  religion  into  the  minds  and  hearts 
of  men,  and,  by  the  conversion  of  parents  and  masters, 
to  reform  whole  families  that  are  under  their  imme- 
diate direction  and  government.  His  unwearied  indus- 
try to  do  good  to  his  flock,  was  answered  by  corres- 
pondent love  and  thankfulness.  He  was  an  angel  in 
their  esteem.  He  would  often  speak  with  great  com- 
placence of  their  dear  affections;  and,  a  little  before 
his  death,  said,  '  He  believed  they  were  more  expres- 
sive of  kindness  to  him,  than  the  Christian  converts 
were  to  the  apostle  Paul,  by  what  appears  in  his 
writings.'  " 

"  His  books,  for  their  number  and  the  variety  of  mat- 
ter in  them,  make  a  library.  They  contain  a  treasure 
of  controversial,  casuistical,  positive,  and  practical  di- 
vinity. Of  them  I  shall  relate  the  words  of  one  whose 
exact  judgment,  joined  with  his  moderation,  will  give 
a  great  value  to  his  testimony  ;  they  are  those  of  Dr. 
Wilkins,  afterwards  bishop  of  Chester.  He  said  that 
Mr.  Baxter  had  '  cultivated  every  subject  he  handled  j' 


Life  of  Baxter.  139 

and  'if  he  had  lived  in  the  primitive  times,  he  had  been 
one  of  the  fathers  of  the  church,'  and  '  that  it  was 
enough  for  one  age  to  produce  such  a  person  as  Mr. 
Baxter.'  Indeed,  he  had  such  an  amplitude  in  his 
thoughts,  such  a  vivacity  of  imagination,  and  such  so- 
lidity and  depth  of  judgment  as  rarely  meet  in  one 
man.  His  inquiring  mind  was  freed  from  the  servile 
dejection  and  bondage  of  an  implicit  faith.  He  adhered 
to  the  Scriptures  as  the  perfect  rule  of  faith,  and 
searched  whether  the  doctrines  received  and  taught 
were  consonant  to  it.  This  is  the  duty  of  every  Chris- 
tian according  to  his  capacity,  especially  of  minis- 
ters, and  the  necessary  means  to  open  the  mind  for 
Divine  knowledge,  and  for  the  advancement  of  the 
truth." 

"  His  books  of  practical  divinity  have  been  effectual 
for  more  numerous  conversions  of  sinners  to  God  than 
any  printed  in  our  time;  and  while  the  church  remains 
on  earth,  will  be  of  continual  efficacy  to  recover  lost 
souls.  There  is  a  vigorous  pulse  in  them  that  keeps  the 
reader  awake  and  attentive.  His  book  of  the  'Saints' 
Everlasting  Rest,'  was  written  by  him  when  languish- 
ing in  the  suspense  of  life  and  death,  but  has  the  sig- 
natures of  his  holy  and  vigorous  mind.  To  allure  our 
desires,  he  unveils  the  sanctuary  above,  and  discovers 
the  glory  and  joys  of  the  blessed  in  the  Divine  pre- 
sence, by  a  light  so  strong  and  lively,  that  all  the  glt- 
tering  vanities  of  this  world  vanish  in  that  comparison, 
and  a  sincere  believer  will  despise  them,  as  one  of  ma- 
ture age  does  the  toys  and  baubles  of  children.  To  ex- 
cite our  fear  he  removes  the  skreen,  and  makes  the 
everlasting  fire  of  hell  so  visible,  and  represents  the 
tormenting  passions  of  the  damned  in  those  dreadful 
colors,   that,   if  duly  considered,   M'ould  check  and 


140  LIFE    or    BAXTER. 

control  the  unbridled  licentious  appetites  of  the  most 
sensual." 

Baxter's  practical  writings  alone  occupy  four  pon- 
derous folio,  or  twenty-two  octavo  volumes.  If  a  com- 
plete collection  of  his  controversial  and  practical  writ- 
ings were  made,  they  would  occupy  fully  sixty  volumes 
of  the  same  size.  "  His  industry  was  almost  incredible 
in  his  studies.  He  had  a  sensitive  nature,  desirous  of 
ease,  as  others  have,  and  faculties  like  others,  liable  to 
tire ;  yet  such  was  the  continual  application  of  him- 
self to  his  great  work,  as  if  the  labor  of  one  day  had 
supplied  strength  for  another,  and  the  willingness  of 
the  spirit  had  supported  the  weakness  of  the  flesh." 
His  painful  and  incessant  afflictions  would  have  pre- 
vented an  ordinary  man  from  attempting  any  thing  ; 
but  he  persevered  with  unwearied  industry  to  the  close 
of  his  days.  His  life  was  occupied,  too,  in  active  labors. 
In  camps  and  at  court,  in  his  parish  and  in  prison,  at 
home  and  abroad,  his  efforts  were  unremitting  and 
often  successful. 

Some  idea  of  his  sufferings  may  be  formed  from  the 
summary  of  his  diseases  given  by  his  late  biographer. 

"  His  constitution  was  naturally  sound,  but  he  was 
always  very  thin  and  weak,  and  early  affected  with 
nervous  debility.  At  fourteen  years  of  age  he  was 
seized  with  the  small-pox,  and  soon  after,  by  improper 
exposure  to  the  cold,  he  was  affected  with  a  violent 
catarrh  and  cough.  This  continued  for  about  two  years, 
and  was  followed  by  spitting  of  blood  and  other  phthi- 
sical symptoms.  He  became,  from  that  time,  the  sport 
of  medical  treatment  and  experiment.  One  physician 
prescribed  one  mode  of  cure,  and  another  a  different 
one  ;  till,  from  first  to  last,  he  had  tlie  advice  of  no  less 
than  thirty-six  professors  of  tlic  healing  art.    By  their 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  Ill 

orders  he  look  driicrs  without  number,  till,  from  ex- 
periencing how  little  they  could  do  for  him,  he  for- 
sook them  entirely,  except  some  particular  symptom 
urged  him  to  seek  present  relief.  He  was  diseased  lite- 
rally from  head  to  foot;  his  stomach  flatulent  and  acidu- 
lous ;  violent  rheumatic  head-aches ;  prodigious  bleed- 
ing at  the  nose  ;  his  legs  swelled  and  dropsical,  &c. 
His  physicians  called  it  hypochondria,  he  himself  con- 
sidered it  prcematura  seneclus,  premature  old  age;  so 
that  at  twenty  he  had  the  symptoms,  in  addition  to 
disease,  of  fourscore  !  To  be  more  particular  would 
be  disagreeable  ;  and  to  detail  the  innumerable  reme- 
dies to  which  he  was  directed,  or  which  he  employed 
himself,  would  add  little  to  the  stock  of  medical  know- 
ledge. He  was  certainly  one  of  the  most  diseased  and 
afflicted  men  that  ever  reached  the  full  ordinary  limits 
of  human  life.  How,  in  such  circumstances,  he  was 
capable  of  the  exertions  he  almost  incessantly  made, 
appears  not  a  little  mysterious.  His  behavior  under 
them  is  a  poignant  reproof  to  many,  who  either  sink 
entirely  under  common  afflictions,  or  give  way  to 
indolence  and  trifling.  For  the  acerbity  of  his  temper 
we  are  now  prepared  with  an  ample  apology.  That 
he  should  have  been  occasionally  fretful,  and  impatient 
of  contradiction,  is  not  surprising,  considering  the 
state  of  the  earthen  vessel  in  which  his  noble  and  ac- 
tive spirit  was  deposited.  No  man  was  more  sensible 
of  his  obliquities  of  disposition  than  himself;  and  no 
man,  perhaps,  ever  did  more  to  maintain  the  ascend- 
ancy of  Christian  principle  over  the  strength  and  way- 
wardness of  passion." 

The  conviction  that  his  time  would  be  short,  urged 
him  to  prosecute  his  labors  with  unwearied  assiduity. 
Love  to  immortal  souls,  too,  exerted  its  powerful  in- 


142  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

fluence.  This  ''love  to  ihe  souls  of  men,"  says  Dr. 
Bates,  "  was  the  peculiar  character  of  his  spirit.  In 
this  he  imitated  and  honored  our  Savior,  who  prayed, 
died,  and  lives  for  the  salvation  of  souls.  All  his  na- 
tural and  supernatural  endowments  were  subservient 
to  that  blessed  end.  It  was  his  meat  and  drink,  the  life 
and  joy  of  his  life  to  do  good  to  souls." 

Disinterestedness  formed  no  unimportant  feature  of 
his  character,  and  was  strikingly  marked  in  his  refusal 
of  ecclesiastical  preferment;  his  self-denying  engage- 
ments respecting  his  stipend  at  Kidderminster;  his 
gratuitous  labors ;  abundant  alms-giving ;  and  the  wide 
distribution  of  his  works  among  the  poor  and  destitute. 
So  long  as  he  had  a  bare  maintenance  he  was  content. 
He  rejoiced  in  being  able  to  benefit  others  by  his  pro- 
perty or  his  labors. 

Fidelity  to  his  Divine  Master,  and  to  his  cause,  was 
conspicuous  in  all  his  engagements.  He  tendered  his 
advice,  or  administered  his  reproofs  with  equal  faith- 
fulness, whether  in  court  or  camp  ;  to  the  king  or  to 
the  protector;  before  parliament  or  his  parishioners; 
in  his  conversation  or  his  correspondence.  He  could 
not  suffer  sin  upon  his  neighbor ;  and  whatever  he  con- 
ceived would  be  for  the  benefit  of  those  concerned,  that 
he  faithfully,  and  without  compromise,  administered. 
In  his  preaching  he  "  shunned  not  to  declare  the  whole 
counsel  of  God." 

Dr.  Bates  remarks  :  '•  He  that  was  so  solicitous  for 
the  salvation  of  others,  was  not  negligent  of  his  own. 
In  him  the  virtues  of  the  contemplative  and  active  life 
were  eminently  united.  His  time  was  spent  in  com- 
munion with  God,  and  in  charity  to  men.  He  lived 
above  the  world,  and  in  solitude  and  silence  conversed 
with  God.    The  frequent  and  serious  meditation  of 


LIFE    OF    BAXTER.  143 

eternal  things  was  the  powerful  means  to  make  his 
heart  holy  and  heavenly,  and  from  thence  his  conver- 
sation, liis  life  was  a  practical  sermon,  a  drawing  ex- 
ample. There  was  an  uir  of  humility  and  sanctity  in 
his  mortified  countenance ;  and  his  deportment  was  be- 
coming a  stranger  upon  earth  and  a  citizen  of  heaven." 

The  following  passage  from  his  interesting  impor- 
tant work,  entitled  "The  Divine  Life,"  may  be  con- 
sidered OS  a  portrait  of  his  own  spiritual  character. 

"  To  walk  with  God,''  he  says,  "  is  a  plirase  so  high, 
that  I  should  have  feared  the  guilt  of  arrogance  in 
iijsing  it,  if  I  had  not  found  it  in  the  Holy  Scriptures. 
it  is  a  phrase  that  imports  so  liigh  and  holy  a  frame 
of  soul,  and  expresses  such  high  and  holy  actions,  that 
the  naming  of  it  strikes  my  heart  with  reverence,  as  if 
I  liad  heard  the  voice  to  Moses,  '  Put  off  thy  shoes 
from  off  thy  feet,  for  the  place  wliereon  thou  standest 
is  holy  ground.'  Methinks  he  that  shall  say  to  me, 
Come,  see  a  man  that  walks  with  God,  doth  call  mo 
to  see  one  that  is  next  unto  an  angel  or  glorified  soul. 
It  is  a  far  more  reverend  object  in  mine  eye  than  ten 
thousand  lords  or  princes,  considered  only  in  their 
earthly  glory.  It  is  a  wiser  action  for  people  to  run 
and  crowd  together  to  see  a  man  that  walks  with  God, 
than  to  see  the  pompous  train  of  princes,  their  enter- 
tainments, or  their  triumph.  0,  happy  man  that  walks 
with  God,  though  neglected  and  contemned  by  all 
:d)Out  him !  What  blessed  sights  does  he  daily  see  I 
What  ravishing  tidings,  what  pleasant  melody  does  he 
daily  hear  !  What  delectable  food  does  he  daily  taste  ! 
He  sees,  by  faith,  the  God,  t!ie  glory  which  the  blessed 
spirits  see  at  hand  by  nearest  intuition  !  He  sees  that 
in  a  glass,  and  darkly,  which  they  behold  with  open 
face !    He  sees  the  glorious  majesty  of  his  Creator,  tlie 


144  LIFE    OF    BAXTER. 

eternal  King,  the  Cause  of  causes,  the  Composer,  Up- 
holder, Preserver,  and  Governor  of  all  worlds !  He  be- 
holds the  wonderful  methods  of  his  providence;  and 
wliat  he  cannot  fully  see  he  admires,  and  waits  for 
the  time  when  that  also  shall  be  open  to  his  view !  He 
sees,  by  faith,  the  world  of  spirits,  the  hosts  that  attend 
the  throne  of  God ;  their  perfect  righteousness,  their 
full  devotedness  to  God ;  their  ardent  love,  their  flam- 
ing zeal,  their  ready  and  cheerful  obedience,  their  dig- 
nity and  shining  glory,  in  which  the  lowest  of  them 
exceed  that  which  the  disciples  saw  on  Moses  and 
Elias,  when  they  appeared  on  the  holy  mount  and 
talked  with  Christ !  He  hears  by  faith  the  heavenly 
concert,  the  high  and  harmonious  songs  of  praise,  the 
joyful  triumphs  of  crowned  saints,  tne  sweet  comme- 
morations of  the  things  that  were  done  and  suffered 
on  earth,  with  the  praises  of  Him  that  redeemed  them 
by  his  blood,  and  made  them  kings  and  priests  unto 
God.  Herein  he  has  sometimes  a  sweet  foretaste  of  the 
everlastrng  pleasures  which,  though  it  be  but  little,  as 
Jonathan's  honey  on  the  end  of  his  rod,  or  as  the  clus- 
ters brought  from  Canaan  into  the  wilderness;  yet  is 
jnore  excellent  than  all  the  delights  of  sinners." 

His  character  may  be  summed  up  in  the  words  of 
Mr.  Orme :  "  Among  his  contemporaries  there  were 
men  of  equal  talents,  of  more  amiable  dispositions,  and 
of  greater  learning.  But  there  was  no  man  in  whom 
there  appears  to  have  been  so  little  of  earth,  and  so 
much  of  heaven  ;  so  small  a  portion  of  the  alloy  of  hu- 
manity, and  so  large  a  portion  of  all  that  is  celestial. 
He  felt  scarcely  any  of  the  attractions  of  this  world, 
but  felt  and  manifested  the  most  powerful  affinity  for 
the  world  to  come." 

END. 


